Into Hell's Fires
by casus17
Summary: An ambush on an otherwise ordinary hunt leaves one of the brothers in the hands of demons. Can the other one find his brother before it's too late... or is that exactly what the demons want? Sequel to A Psychic's Touch. LAST CHAPTER UP!
1. Chapter 1: Ambush

**Disclaimer:** I own them… and pigs fly… I don't really.

**Author's Note:** So, this is the sequel to A Psychic's Touch. You probably don't need to read it to understand this one, though it might get a tiny little confusing in some parts. Hope you like it!

**INTO HELL'S FIRES**

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Chapter 1: Ambush

"Dean, duck!" Sam shouted, whirling as he felt the revenge-driven spirit sneak up on them. He pulled the shotgun up and as soon as Dean's head was out of the line of fire, he pulled the trigger.

The shot was loud in the silent cemetery, creating an unearthly roar in the mist-shrouded valley somewhere behind a ranch in New Jersey. But the rock salt hit its mark and the spirit disappeared in a shriek that promised pain.

Dean stood up slowly, shaking a little – the rock salt had whizzed not an inch over his head – and turned to his little brother.

"Nice shooting," he muttered, not mentioning the fact that Sam had felt the spirit before it had appeared. Sam, too, shrugged it off for now, though it was one of those scary things that had been happening to him since they had left Bloomsfeld five weeks ago. His psychic abilities, there the target for a demon wanting revenge for their father's act, had been growing. And he didn't know how to control it. Accept it? Well, he was getting there. Control it? He wished.

Dean was rubbing his hair, though even his dirty hand didn't seem to mess it up. Then he took a deep breath.

"Come on, Haley Joel. We gotta find this grave before it comes back."

Sam ignored the jibe and turned back to the path, pointing his flashlight with one hand. The other kept a tight hold on the shotgun.

They walked in silence for the next few minutes. Dean followed Sam, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. Sam led, going by the map in his head created from the directions Joe Holdon, the man who owned the property, had given him. He didn't look around nearly as much, but instead allowed himself to feel what was happening. It wasn't something he did often. In actual fact, he had no control over when it happened. It was just their luck that it was happening now, and not when they were in some busy street where every second person was thinking bad thoughts about every first person. Not that he could actually read their minds, but they still had a tinge of darkness to them that seemed to infuse him as well, making him grumpy and irritable, unable to stand being around anyone else. Just one of the side effects of him being possessed by a psychic demon he supposed.

He shuddered, thinking about what had happened five weeks ago. That had been the scariest thing of his life. As well as the most horrible. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he allowed himself to let go of his thoughts, he could remember the demon, that evil being filling every fibre of his mind, of his soul, just filling and filling him, taking over completely. It had all turned out fine in the end, of course. But the demon had left a mark on him, a mark that he couldn't scrub off, couldn't even see, no matter how hard he tried.

Dean's soft voice broke into his thoughts, for which he was grateful. "Sammy, keep moving buddy."

He knew Dean knew, but they both pretended ignorance. Oh, his brother didn't know the details, but Dean knew Sam well enough to know when something was wrong. And he was always there to pull Sam out of his own thoughts. Sam knew this, and he could never ever express his gratitude in mere words.

Five quiet minutes later they reached the small cemetery. Dean dumped the duffel bag on the ground, but kept a hold on the shotgun. He turned to Sam.

"So, anyone up for a little digging?" he asked hopefully. Sam sighed and held out a hand resignedly.

"I'll take the first go." Of course Dean only had one shovel. "But you're doing some as well."

He took the tool from his older brother's hand and laid the gun on the ground. Giving a deep sigh he stepped forward and began digging.

Ten minutes later he was working up a light sweat and had removed his jacket. The rhythm was thoughtless by then. Down, push, step, lift, throw. A few times he aimed the dirt at Dean, who scowled as he moved out of the way of the shower of turf.

Half an hour later he was maybe a foot down and he handed the shovel to Dean, who copied Sam and sighed deeply. This was always the worst part. The digging. It was messy, cold and just a pain in the ass.

In this fashion they slowly deepened the hole. Every half hour they changed so the other could rest, and they moved through the dirt quickly. Still, the moon was a lot higher when they finally struck wood.

Dean looked up at Sam from the five-foot deep hole. He was grinning. "Showtime. You right to take the ghost? I mean, I'm already down here."

Sam nodded, picking up the shotgun and loading it with a quick action. It would be his job to distract the spirit once it showed up. That it would show up, they didn't doubt. For some reason ghosts didn't like their bodies being burned. Sam thought it was something to do with being sent back to wherever they came from. He wouldn't want to go there either. But he didn't belong there. They did.

He nodded, tensing slightly with apprehension. "Ready."

Dean nodded back and swung hard with the shovel. The noise of it hitting the coffin was drowned out by an angry shriek. Sam turned, tense. The ghost was here, and he didn't need psychic abilities to know that.

He began to walk away from the grave, turning slowly. He couldn't feel it yet. Well, not enough to know exactly where it was. But it was here. He could have told that just from the second shriek that echoed across the valley.

"Sam, you got it covered?" Dean asked as he jumped out of the grave. Sam didn't have time to answer. In that moment the ghost appeared, headed right for Dean as he bent to get the can of salt from the duffel bag. Sam brought the gun up and took aim. A second later he pulled the trigger.

Dean swore as he stood up straight, jumping from the shock. "Damn, Sammy! Don't do that!"

Sam smirked. "Sorry, next time I'll let the nasty ghost get you."

Dean frowned, but did so away from Sam's vision. Ever since Bloomsfeld Sam had changed. And not just with his shining. He was more arrogant, more aggressive, more forceful. Yet at times Dean would watch Sam. And his little brother would never realize, he was so deep in thought. And judging by the scared, dazed look in his eyes, Sam wasn't thinking about lollipops and candy canes. Even worse, he refused to talk about it when Dean tentatively asked, but was always so relieved when he was pulled from those deep memories.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the ghost until it was right on top of him again. He jumped once more as the shotgun went off and the ghost shrieked in anger.

"Dammit Sam, stop doing that. Get it before it actually gets anywhere near me!"

Sam just saluted before bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder, ready for the ghost. Dean shook his head and grabbed the can. He stood, unscrewing the lid and pouring the salt over the bones as he walked around the grave. When he had returned to the duffel bag he dropped the salt and grabbed the can of gasoline.

Sam turned in a circle a few feet from the grave, shotgun up. He could feel the ghost, circling around him. It had decided its attention would be better served getting rid of this annoying human being shooting at it. Ghosts seemed to have a one-track mind about these things.

His aim followed the invisible being, but he wasn't going to shoot before it physically appeared. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dean pouring gasoline over the edge of the grave. And then a quick motion caught his attention.

Sam turned in time to see a shadow skirting around the edge of the ring of light. He frowned, wondering what was stalking them. And missed the ghost's next attack because of it.

He went flying backwards as the ghost struck, jarring his elbow as he landed. He managed, somehow, to keep a hold of the gun, and struggle to his feet. He had to switch hands, dropping the torch and taking a hold of the gun in his left.

He swirled to shoot the ghost as it came at him again. This time the ghost backed off with a further screech, and Sam followed its movement. But only for a moment.

"Sam!"

Dean yelled it, and Sam spun, wondering what was causing the anxiety in his brother's voice. What it was… was nothing Sam was prepared for.

Three human shapes were attacking Dean, grabbing a hold of him and trying to drag him away from the grave. The grave that wasn't burning.

Sam spun once, shooting at the ghost as it tried to sneak up on him again, before turning back and running towards Dean as the older hunter shouted again.

Sam stopped about twenty feet away, taking aim. He pulled the trigger, knowing instinctively that he wouldn't hit Dean with the salt. He didn't either. The rock salt hit the people dragging Dean away. Only, it didn't do anything. Nothing injurious anyway. Instead, the people snarled and snapped their heads around; in the light of the dropped torches, Sam could just see their eyes. Their fully black eyes.

"Demons?" he whispered in shock. He was so surprised, he didn't feel the ghost appear near him.

He sailed through the air, landing hard on his front. His arm broke his fall, and rolled over, groaning. He almost rolled over into empty space.

He struggled for a moment, rolling back the way he had come. Then he felt the ghost coming and took aim. With an empty hand.

Swearing, he got to his hands and knees, looking wildly around for the lighter. He saw it, just a few feet away.

He scrabbled forward as fast as he could, fully aware of the angry spirit bearing down on him. And of Dean's frantic struggle with the three… demons. His hand closed on the lighter.

He tossed in the flame just as the ghost reached him. Not yet dead, it flung him a fair distance. Thankfully it was towards where the demons were still struggling to grab Dean. Or, more precisely, it was on top of where the demons were still struggling to grab Dean.

As the ghost shrieked one last time, a few bodies broke his fall, and Sam stood up swinging. He untangled himself from them, finding Dean and pulling him away from the demons.

"About time, Sam," Dean half-joked. He had a small gash on his hairline but otherwise seemed fine.

Sam grinned at him. "Sorry. Just getting rid of the ghost. Guy's gotta have priorities."

Any conversation after that was hard, as the demons attacked. Sam backed off as the smaller one came at him, fists flying faster than he could see. He defended as well as he could, but the attack was too quick, and he couldn't help but move backwards. And, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other two demons overpowering Dean.

Sam struggled as hard as he could, but it wasn't enough. Dean yelled out one last time, and the younger Winchester turned to see his older brother fall. He cried out, something angry and incoherent, before the smaller demon attacking him lashed out. Not with hands, or with feet, but with his powers. As air assaulted him, Sam flew backwards. He only had the chance to realize the demon had been toying with him before he hit something hard and darkness swallowed all thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2:Waking

**Disclaimer:**Anything you don't recognise belongs to me… The rest is just wishful thinking.

**Warning:** Naughty words.

**Author's Note:** Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed! Also, from here on, the chapters get longer than they were in chapter 1, and in A Psychic's Touch. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

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Chapter 2: Waking

_He was lost inside himself. Completely and utterly lost for a time that lasted so long yet took no time at all._

_And then he felt it. The demon, invading his mind, his body, his very spirit. It was consuming him, filling every physical and spiritual sense. It seized his mind completely._

Now you will both die_, he heard it cackle, the sound consuming him, filling the role of the first onslaught of pervasive invasion. He felt sick, dirty and so very wrong. He had never felt emotions like it in his life. He had never felt so wrong in his life._

I don't think so_, Sam muttered back. Either the demon didn't hear him, or it ignored him. Either way, it came on, unstoppable and disgusting. It was in that instant that it knew everything Sam was. No, it was more than that. For an instant, it was like the demon and Sam were one and the same, the same disgusting, evil, wrong being. Sam felt so unbelievably abhorrent, he wondered if he could ever get over it. Then he wondered if he would ever get the chance to find out._

_It enveloped him, filled him, now more than him, occupying, owning so much more of Sam's mind than Sam himself. But it was still Sam's mind, and in that laid his strength. And its weakness…_

He sprang into consciousness so quickly that he groaned as aches and pains came flooding back. Whispers stopped immediately, but Sam felt the worry coming off the two people near him. What were two people doing there? As far as he could remember, there should only be one there, and that was Dean. What had woken him?

"Dean!"

He suddenly had to know where his brother was so badly that he was trying to get up before his eyes had even opened properly. Then the pain in his back flooded his system and he groaned once more, collapsing back onto the bed.

The bed?

Wondering what the hell was going on, he opened his eyes against the light beaming into his eyes from above. Immediately he spotted the two figures leaning over him, but neither of them was Dean.

"Where's Dean?" he asked, his voice intense and cold. It seemed to shock the two strangers.

"Who?" the boy asked. He was standing further back, but he was taller than the girl. Sam looked from one to the other, noticing the many similarities, like the blond hair, blue eyes and just that air of confidence. They could have stepped out of a teen magazine, easily, if it weren't for the sense of danger Sam got from them. It surprised him that the psychic stuff was still on, but it let him study these two better than eyes ever could. And they were dangerous. It was the same kind of feeling he got from Dean, just far less intense.

"Are you all right?" the girl suddenly asked, and Sam came crashing back to reality, realizing he hadn't answered the question. He had no clue where he was, there were two strangers standing over him, he felt like he had been pummelled, and Dean was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Dean?" he asked, knowing that was the most pressing question. He had to find Dean. He had to find his brother. What had happened?

The girl looked up at the boy. At her brother. They had to be siblings, Sam decided. They were too alike to be anything less.

"I think he's got a concussion," she stated. Sam shook his head. He didn't. He just had to find Dean. But the two were taking no notice of him at all.

"I told you we should have taken him to hospital," the boy snapped. The girl rolled her eyes.

"And told them what? Oh, here, look after this guy we found in the middle of a cemetery, bleeding after he fell from a tree and nearly broke his back." She shook her head. "We had no choice, Ash. We need to avoid notice."

But her words had given Sam what he needed. "Cemetery."

It wasn't meant as a question, but the girl nodded. Sam took no notice. The night before came back to him quickly; the ghost, the demons, and Dean, being dragged off…

"Dean!" Sam yelled, sitting bolt upright and flinging off the covers, shoving the pain in his back away. The two strangers backed off, scared, Sam realized. He looked over at them.

"When you found me, did you find anyone else? Another man?"

He didn't move towards them, didn't feel like he was threatening them in any way, but they both seemed to stand more upright, as if preparing for an attack.

"No, no one, except you."

"Dammit!" Sam cried, swinging his fist and hitting the bedside table. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! You idiot, Dean, you fucking idiot."

Dean had been taken by those damn demons. Sam, feeling anger and helplessness coming on, sat down on the bed before he could kick anything. There, he bent over and laced his hands behind his head. "God damn, Dean!"

He felt the girl coming closer and looked up before she could touch his shoulder. She seemed startled, but sat down beside him. The boy too, came closer, and they were both sympathetic.

He didn't let them speak. He stood again, looking around. "I have to go. Look, thank you for whatever you did, but I really do have to go."

Only he couldn't find any of his stuff. And for the first time he noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes. He turned to the siblings. "Where's my stuff?" he demanded.

The girl crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You are in no condition to be going anywhere," she told him. Sam stopped his visual search to stare at her. After a second sizing her up, he smirked.

"And how are you going to stop me? Where's my stuff? You know this is illegal."

Her chin rose defiantly. "I don't care. You had a five-inch long gash in your back that was bleeding badly. It's probably infected, and you probably have a concussion. Trust me, you'll thank us later."

Sam could barely contain his anger. These stupid little kids thought they knew everything. Okay, so they could only be a year or two younger than him. But they didn't know anything. Demons had taken his brother, and the trail would be growing colder by the second. Who knew how long Dean had been with them, but it was already too long.

"Look!" he shouted. "Just give me my stuff back. I can take care of myself! I just need to find my brother!"

At this the girl's eyes softened with sympathy. She uncrossed her arms and looked set to speak again. She never got the chance to say what she was going to say.

At the same time, Sam felt the boy reaching in. Before the guy could grab his arm though, Sam spun, seizing the offending limb and twisting, so the boy was completely within his power. Then he pushed, forcing the kid to his knees, ignoring his own pain caused by what had to be a sprain in his wrist. Sam didn't want to hurt the kid, he just needed to leave. He just needed to find Dean. He pushed the kid away.

He turned back to the girl, and was only mildly surprised to find a gun out, pointing at him, but down, nearer his knees than anywhere lethal. She was scared, Sam realized, of him. He found he didn't care.

He rushed forward; she wasn't that far from him. The motion was obviously too quick for her to track, or too unexpected, because before she had even moved the gun more than an inch, he had disarmed her.

Stepping back, he held the gun up. He heard the boy get to his feet, and moved in the opposite direction. The boy moved to stand next to his sister, holding his wrist, and for a moment, Sam stared at them. The fear was blatant on their faces.

Then he sighed, standing up straight and holding the gun down. "You know for hunters, your reflexes are way too slow." And he chucked the gun back to the girl.

She caught it, more surprised now than ever. Sam ignored it and began to search the room.

"You know we're hunters?" the boy asked. Sam nodded where he knelt looking under the bed.

"Yeah. Don't look so shocked. It's this… vibe all hunters have. Cocky, and sure of themselves." Okay, so it was more than a vibe, and it was only one he got when his little freaky mind powers were on. Like now. "My brother has the same problem."

Ah, there were his shoes. Now to find his other stuff. Or was it still at the cemetery. Wondering, he turned to the siblings, who were still standing where he had left them, shocked.

"Who are you?" the girl asked before Sam could ask his own question. He shrugged.

"Sam Winchester. I'm a hunter, like you."

"So it was you who burned the bones?" the boy asked. Sam nodded, getting frustrated. He had no time for this. At least he had shoes on now. Then he would find his stuff, get the Impala and…

"Dammit, the car," he muttered to himself. Dean would kill him if something happened to it. He looked up at the siblings.

"Look, when you found me, what did you do about the car?"

The boy frowned. "What car? We only found you, and a couple of guns."

"And what did you do with those guns?"

The girl sighed, having realized they couldn't keep him there any longer. She turned and ducked for a moment, coming back up with Sam's duffle bag in her hands.

"Thank you," Sam said, reaching for it. She hesitated.

"Why do you need to leave so quickly?" she asked. "I mean, isn't your back sore? And your wrist? And your head?"

Sam shook his head. "It can't afford to be." And it wasn't, at least not too badly. Over the past year he had gotten good at hiding pain, even from himself. Okay, so usually it wasn't so physical, but it worked the same way. Just ignore it. "I need to find my brother."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling awfully tired all of a sudden. "While we were destroying that spirit, we were attacked. By demons. They kidnapped my brother. I need to find him."

"Dean's your brother?" the boy asked. Sam nodded and they both seemed to stand up straighter.

"We'll help you," the girl said decidedly. Sam immediately shook his head.

"No way. This is my problem. My family. I don't need your help."

Again the chin rose defiantly, this time with more than a trace of stubbornness. "You will if it turns out your back doesn't want to be ignored anymore. Or if you do have a concussion. You fell out of a tree. Your brother was captured by demons. I'd say you could use all the help you can get."

Sam stared at her for a moment, wondering who this brazen girl was. "Who are you?" he asked, mimicking his thoughts.

"Anya Jackson. This is my brother, Ash." They were twins, Sam also realized. Damn, that psychic radar seemed to be working well still. He just hoped it would be helpful.

He sighed. The idea of help did seem good. The idea of finding Dean alone seemed… bad. And, ever since Bloomsfeld, he had learnt to trust these feelings. He was, after all, a psychic.

"Fine. You can come. But you do as I say. I've been hunting nearly fifteen years." God, that made him sound old. "And this is my brother. Got it?"

They both nodded, hiding their disgruntlement. Sam nodded back. "Okay then. Grab your stuff and let's get going."

* * *

Dean knew what it was that woke him. Something about being flung into a wall just seemed to spring him from unconsciousness.

So he knew he was awake. Apart from that he was pretty much in the dark. And that was more than a metaphorical phrase. He felt totally blind in the dark space he currently inhabited. Not only that, but the space was tiny. His bound feet couldn't stretch out. And every time he tried to work out where he was, he was flung into another wall of his prison.

Okay, so he knew the situation was pretty bad. He was tied, hands in front of him, in a space maybe three foot by five, if that. He wasn't really sure. Again, it was the sharp hits on the walls that stopped him from knowing.

Well, he was moving. That much was clear. He wouldn't be hitting anything so often if he were stationary. Which, given time to think about it, meant only one thing, given the size of the space.

He was in the trunk of a car.

And it was just as bad as people claimed. Small, airless, dark. That left only one question. Or one important question.

Who had put him here? And why?

Okay, so that was two questions. And he had plenty more. Like where was Sam and why hadn't his little brother saved his ass yet? But they weren't the most pressing problems. He would have really liked to know who had put him in the damn car trunk before they opened the hatch to find him blinking up at them.

Well, he knew a little. He could remember, all too clearly, the night before. Or he thought it was the night before. In any case, he remembered the demons jumping him while he had tried to burn the bones of that damn ghost. And he remembered, all too clearly, the ease with which the bastards had got him. His efforts of getting away had done little more than annoy them, until he had had to call for Sam. He was getting rusty.

Still, he would have liked to know more about them. If he knew exactly what kind of demon they were, he could find a way to kill them. But it wasn't to be.

Maybe ten minutes after he woke – after slamming into the back of the boot due to the car's quick acceleration – he crashed into the front. Or what he assumed was the front. But the car stopped and he just avoided swallowing. As much as he wanted to taste fresh air, he really wasn't ready to face these demons.

But the trunk opened, and, blinking in artificial light, Dean peered out, trying to look as intimidating as he could while tied, sweaty and pale.

The first thing he saw, as soon as he could see, was something he would never forget.

It was a woman. The most intriguing, obviously evil woman he had ever seen, who immediately sparked a need to know who and what she was, a need to know so intimately that it could kill you. She wore power as confidently as any normal person wore clothes, and Dean could tell, just from the way she held herself, that she knew how to use it. She was small, but far from diminutive. She made him feel small while at the same time causing him to believe he was a huge, clumsy oaf compared to her fragile form. Dean thought that if she hadn't also exuded a dark evilness, he would have been prepared to do anything for her.

Suddenly she seemed to realize something. Abruptly in a fury, she spun and towered over the others. Or at least, they cowered back, and Dean couldn't help but be impressed by the fear this woman sparked in these demons, bringers of pain, death and destruction. Because there was no way she was a demon, but she still made them cower.

"You idiots!" she screamed, concentrating on three male figures in front of her. Dean recognised them as the three demons who had kidnapped him. They didn't look so powerful now, shrinking with fear.

"You complete fools!" the woman screamed just as loudly. "Idiots! One simple job and you couldn't even get that right!"

Dean stared up at her, confused. So did the three she was yelling at. They looked at each other, and then back at her.

"What do you mean? We snatched him and left the other one." They really couldn't see the problem, and neither could Dean. Well, apart from the problem of being in the hands of a gang of blood-thirsty demons led by angry, evil woman.

The woman near screamed with frustration and rage. Then she spun and, with only the slightest sign of exertion, dragged Dean from the trunk.

He landed on the ground hard and rolled over, stretching out. He grunted as a toe nudged him none too gently.

"I mean, idiot, that this isn't the one you were meant to GRAB!"

Their faces blanched, as did Dean's. That was even worse. They hadn't been after him. Which meant… which meant they were after Sam.

The demons appeared speechless. They looked at each other again, obviously wondering how they could have stuffed up so badly. The middle one looked at the woman.

"How? I mean… Eve, we -."

The demon cut off as the woman, Eve, growled. He never got another chance to explain. A second later his head exploded, showering everyone around with blood and brain pulp. Dean flinched as it hit him, and he felt the bile rising. Another two explosions – the other two demons – made him turn and vomit.

When he had emptied his stomach, he turned back and found Eve looking down at him with contempt. He stared back, but she didn't speak to him. After a moment she turned, not from discomfort, and began barking orders.

"Put him in the back room. No doubt those idiots left a trail, so the other one will be here soon. Get ready for him."

Dean began struggling instantly, but he felt suddenly weary at the same time. Two of them grabbed and spun him, and then he saw the blood on the concrete ground. He had a head wound, he realized. Now that could complicate matters. If he had a concussion, which was looking likely from the tiredness he was feeling, it would severely limit his ability to fight back. And to stop them from getting Sam.

He realized he was being dragged inside somewhere. He began fighting again, but the motion made him feel sick. He collapsed on the spot, dry retching, shaking. This couldn't be good. He did have a concussion. No wonder everything had been so hard to figure out while he was trapped in that boot. Not to mention the lack of air, space and that he had been hitting a wall every few seconds.

A second later Dean was dragged to his feet, and he tried to shake his arms from the hold. He looked around desperately, hoping for something to help him. His eyes swept over a town, a town he recognised. In fact they weren't far from the motel where he had been staying. He had only an instant to scan their surroundings before something hit him in the back, and he winced, dry retching again. By the time he finished they were inside the warehouse, and he was being dragged into a room.

The door slammed shut on him, putting him in almost complete darkness. All he could see was a faint outline of the door and a few objects in the room.

He got to his knees slowly, before kneeling still for a moment to make his head stop spinning. This was not good. Oh, wait, he had already realized that. But it wasn't. At least he had a fair idea of where he was. And, he thought with a grin, the idiots hadn't searched him. He could feel his cell phone in his pocket. He was without a weapon, apart from his hands, but he could ring Sam and tell him exactly where he was. And warn him.

Swallowing doubts, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, no easy task with his hands tied. But he had to do this quickly, before any of them came for him.

He dialled Sam's number and held the phone to his ear, waiting desperately for his little brother to pick up.

* * *

Sam was in the lead. He could feel Anya right behind him, and Ash behind her. The girl was more than a little annoyed about being in the middle, but she hid it well. Sam's psychic radar was working still. He was surprised actually. Normally it lasted half a day, at most. This time it had been on for twice that.

He shook his thoughts from his head, concentrating instead on the trail in front of him. They had been following it silently since they had reached the cemetery. The Impala had still been there, thank God, but he had had to leave it in order to follow the trail through the forest. It had been easy. They had just had to follow the drag marks.

And then they came to the road.

Sam stopped, and Anya only just avoided running into him. She made a small noise in the back of her throat – a noise of annoyance – but Sam just ignored her, staring at the road.

There were tire marks for a few feet. And then they just disappeared. He took a few steps forward, following the black skid marks – the car must have accelerated quickly. And then they just ended.

"No," Sam whispered. "No, no, no, no, no!"

He heaved for breath, trying hard not to lose control. He gasped once, desperate to control his breathing. He wasn't going to hyperventilate in front of these complete strangers.

He looked back at the marks. He stood at the end of them, trying to wish them into existence. It didn't work, and he spun, screaming.

"Goddammit!"

Having let loose frightened rage, he sat down on the road, feeling exhausted. He was completely aware of Anya and Ash staring at him with worry.

And then his phone rang.

Eyes closed, he pulled the phone out, wondering who was ringing at three o'clock in the morning.

"Hello?"

"Sam, thank God!"

Sam's eyes snapped open, hand tightening over the phone. "Dean? What the hell?"

He got to his feet, immediately pacing. "How the hell are you calling? Are you okay? What happened?"

"One question at a time, Sammy," Dean ordered softly. "And not so loud. The demons are right outside my door."

"Demons?" He was feeling confused. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing a doctor couldn't fix. And yeah, demons. But they're a bunch of idiots. They didn't even search me. And they let me see where I am. And -."

Sam cut him off before he could continue. "Dean, where are you?"

"In a warehouse, on the outskirts of town. It's actually not far from our motel, though it was a long way from the cemetery then. But it's on the other side of town to the ranch. I'm in a big warehouse, smells kind of bad. I think it's pretty old, and it's abandoned."

"Back in town, huh. Damn, they did drive you a fair distance." He looked around, sighing. "It's going to take us a while to get there. A few hours, at least."

"Us?" Dean asked. "Who's with you?"

Sam looked around at the bewildered Anya and Ash. "Some hunters who found me in the cemetery. They've been helping. We were following your trail."

He barely heard Ash's mumbled, "I couldn't even see the damn trail." Sam ignored him.

"But we'll be there as soon as we can," Sam continued. "It's just gonna take us a couple of hours to get back into town."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Sammy, I don't think you should come. They were, damn!"

Dean's voice cut off suddenly and Sam stopped pacing, face turning white. "Dean? Dean? Dean!"

And then the phone went dead.

* * *

Dean gasped for breath where he was pinned against the wall. He could see his phone, and Sam's voice coming from it.

"Dean? Dean? Dean!"

Eve's foot crushed it as she stepped forward, a glare on her face that twisted her bright blue eyes. Nine angry figures accompanied her.

"Fool!" she shouted, making Dean flinch. "Do you want pain, boy? Cause that's what that phone call just got you."

Dean glared down at her. "You think I care. Sam knows where we are. He's gonna come smoke your ass."

The woman walked right up to him. Then she smiled, and reached out with her hand. Dean leaned back, trying to get away, but she still managed to cup his cheek. And then…

His head exploded in light. He groaned, from the sheer intensity of it. It wasn't painful, but the light was blinding. He felt his head shake, trying to get away, but it was all in his head. He couldn't get away from his own head.

Suddenly it died, and Dean felt his head collapse onto his chest. He couldn't hold it up. But Eve did that for him. She cupped his chin and lifted his head so that he was looking at her.

"What are you?" he asked in a raspy voice. She smiled at him.

"Poor Sammy," she whispered back. "He doesn't know we want him. You didn't get to warn him. Not only that. You think he's psychic powers are killing him. But not because he's psychic. But because you can't look at him the same every time you think about what happened to him five weeks ago. You want to know what's wrong, but you think that if he shares it with you before he's had time to contain it, he'll explode."

Dean stared down at her, horror marring his face. "You're psychic?"

Somehow he found the strength to twist away from her grip. "Get your filthy powers out of my mind! You have no right to be in there, bitch! Get out!"

She slapped him instantly, but as the stars slowly began to disappear from his vision, she turned away to the others. "The boy has friends, hunters. Let's go!"

* * *

Like it? Hope so. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: On the Hunt

**Disclaimer:** If only…

**Warning:** Little bit of language. Hissy fits.

**Author's Note:** So, I wrote this chapter _before_ I saw Everybody Loves A Clown. Therefore, any similarities between my Ash and the Ash on the show are purely coincidental.

* * *

Chapter 3: On the Hunt

Sam drove at breakneck speed through the town, knuckles white around the Impala's steering wheel. He was just glad Dean had given him the keys while the older hunter was in the grave, digging. Otherwise he would have had to leave the precious vehicle in the misty valley or hotwired it. Either way Dean would have killed him.

It was maybe six in the morning. An hour and a half had been wasted getting back to the cemetery, and then in traversing the bumpy road back to town. But now Sam drove like the hounds of hell themselves tailed him, though in actual fact it was only Anya and Ash in their crappy POS that looked like it would fall apart at any minute.

They had given only five minutes to planning before they had taken off back to the cemetery. Sam had gotten a map of the town out, and in the torchlight they had studied it.

In no time at all, they had found the place where Dean thought he was. It wasn't hard. It was on the wrong side of the town to be in the industrial estate, which left only three warehouses. Two of which were still in use, and probably guarded at night. Which left only one. Sam was thanking his lucky stars.

It also only left a plan of attack to organise. Sam explained everything, glad Anya and Ash had plenty of silver bullets. They would go in a back way, leaving any demons they did find until they had found Dean. And then, most likely, they would have to shoot their way out. If demons came across them rescuing his brother. Otherwise, they would try and leave as stealthily as possible. Simple

And then Anya put forward the question that made Sam's blood run cold.

"What if he's already dead?" she asked quietly.

Sam froze with his blood. He stared at her, not hating, not angry, not… anything. And then thought caught up with the time, and he shook his head.

"They won't. Obviously they want him for something. Otherwise they would have killed him last night. They wouldn't have bothered taking him."

Now he was a few blocks away from the abandoned warehouse, and closing fast. He didn't approach the main gates, but slowed down – an action not easy when he thought that his brother was in that building – and took the next right, coming to park behind the warehouse. The dark warehouse.

He swallowed sudden doubts and got out of the car. Anya and Ash walked up to him. He nodded at them; there was no need for further orders. They all knew what they had to do. Which was basically just get in, be quiet and find Dean, before getting out as fast as possible.

He turned to the trunk and opened it, revealing the multitude of weapons. Ash seemed a little impressed, but they both had their own arsenal in the boot of their own car.

Having taken two guns, loading them with silver bullets, as well as two knives – one at his ankle, one strapped to his forearm – he turned and studied the siblings.

"Ready?" he asked, sure they were. He had a good feeling about these two. They both nodded determinedly. Sam nodded back, feeling only the slightest bit of anxiety, though to be honest, most of it was caused by the growing dread in his stomach. Dread that he was too late.

He led once more, with Ash and Anya behind him. He found a break in the fence, a disused, rusty gate, and continued over the grounds, keeping to shadow as much as he could in the light of the sunrise.

But five minutes later he found that it didn't matter. He managed to sneak into the building without difficulty, and they silently made their way around the abandoned warehouse.

After a few minutes Sam stopped, dropping his arms and swallowing. Then he shook his head.

"They've gone," he muttered hollowly. "They're not here."

He stumbled off to the side, not caring how much noise he made. It didn't matter. They weren't here. Dean wasn't here. And now he had no idea where his brother was. His brother was gone. Sam had failed him. He had failed.

Suddenly he stopped and looked around his surroundings for the first time since he had left Ash and Anya. He realized he had wandered into a storeroom or something. It was empty of anything. For a moment he wondered what had made him stop. And then his mind recalled a crunch.

He looked down, and then moved as if bitten. There, on the floor, were the remains of a phone. Dean's phone.

He squatted, picking up the pieces. His hands shook terribly as they held the desiccated phone. And then, feeling rage, he threw the pieces against the wall.

He stood, yelling incoherently, and kicking the pieces still on the floor. He felt something else in his hand and threw it at the wall as well. The knife quivered where it struck wood. Sam didn't notice.

He yelled again, screamed, anger, rage, frustration, fear, anxiety. This couldn't be happening. He remembered, all too well, his fear when Dean had gone missing in Bloomsfeld. And countless other times before. But it was worse this time. He needed Dean. Dean kept away the bad dreams, the memories. He saved Sam from reliving them time after time. And now… with Dean gone, he felt so helpless. Sam hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on Dean. Worse than that, it was his fault Dean was gone, because he hadn't been strong enough.

"Dammit Dean," Sam whispered, leaning against the wall as the adrenaline left. Or more, he fell into the wall, reawakening the pain in his back. He didn't care. It was just more pain to add to the collection of misery he felt at that moment. And as the adrenaline ebbed away, he slid down the wall until he was sitting with his knees against his chest.

He leaned his forehead against his knees, and laced his fingers behind his head. He had to find Dean. He had to.

He felt movement and looked up to find Anya watching him. He knew instantly that she had seen most of it through the open door. For certain she had heard him screaming. But she tried to hide it. Sam kept a sad smile from his face, keeping it serious. She just didn't realize that at the moment she, along with everyone else on the planet, was an open book to him.

Sam stood, wincing as his sore wrist reinforced his weight on the wall. Anya took a step forward, hands in back pockets. She was more than a little uncomfortable.

"Um, Sam, we found some stuff in an office. You should come and have a look."

Sam nodded, and she turned and led him out of the room. He left the phone pieces lying where they were.

As he passed through the warehouse, he began noticing things he should have noticed before. Like the instant he had walked in. His mind had been too preoccupied. He took a deep breath and made himself calm down. Panic and recklessness weren't going to save Dean. Calm thinking was. Calm.

"They've haven't been here long," he told Anya. She frowned.

"How can you tell?" she asked. He pointed at a corner.

"The place is too clean. Once they got it out of Dean that there was more than one if me, I think they packed in a hurry. But there's no piles of rubbish, no things strewn everywhere. While the place is falling apart, there's no vandalism. Demons live for destruction, but this place is tidy. They weren't here long at all."

He swallowed the thought as they stepped into an office. Ash was there, sitting in a chair, looking through papers. Sam looked around and saw more papers stuck to the walls. It reminded him vividly of his father.

Suddenly something caught his eye. He marched across the room, and stood stock still, almost quivering with… a very mixed emotion. Mainly disgust.

"What is it?" Anya asked as she came to stand next to him. She squinted up at the paper but Sam provided her with an explanation.

"Us," he answered. "Me and Dean. Everything we've been doing in the past five weeks."

It was like a timeline, starting from the moment they left Bloomsfeld. What motels they had stayed at, bars they had frequented, hunts accomplished. Sam wouldn't have been surprised to have found what urinals he had pissed in. His jaw was dropping.

"I don't believe it," he muttered. "They've been keeping tabs on us. They've been planning this ever since we left Bloomsfeld."

He just knew it. Angry, he took a step back and looked at the rest of the papers on the wall. It was all about him and Dean. The same set up John Winchester used to figure out what he was hunting. Only these demons had been hunting them.

"Why?" Anya asked after a moment's silence. Sam shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Probably to do what they did: capture Dean." He shook his head. "What I want to know is why Dean? What's special about him? What do they want from him? Demons don't just come looking just to take people, there's always a reason."

"Revenge?" Anya suggested. But Sam just shook his head, frowning in thought.

"I don't think so somehow. Maybe. I dunno." He shook his head again, exhaling heavily. "If that's the case, we have to find him quick. Demon revenge isn't the nicest thing going around." And he knew that from personal experience.

Suppressing a shudder, he began to turn to the other walls. But Ash's voice made him stop and look at where the guy had been looking through some papers.

"I think I may have found where," Ash spoke up, leafing through a few papers. He gave a quick glance at the other two hunters before continuing. "I found this pile in this draw. It's schedules. Printed off a computer, probably. But I think they point to where they took your brother."

Feeling a surge of hope, Sam went to stand over the boy's shoulder. He looked down at the mess of papers on the desk. "Where?" he asked breathlessly.

Ash found three papers, and put them on top of the rest. "These ones are train timetables. They all have one place in common. Philadelphia. Then this one was circled. It left at five this morning." He paused for a moment, looking for another sheet. "So then I found these. They're delivery dates for a transport company based in Pittsburg, and one leaves from Phily. From there it looks like more trains, personal ones though. Whoever these people are, they have someone looking out for them. I mean, none of this is cheap. Hell, it even looks like they own this transport company."

Sam was surprised the kid could get that much after no more than five minutes searching through what looked to him like a steaming pile of nothing. "Damn, Ash, where'd you learn to do all that? Work it out, I mean."

The guy shrugged. "Nowhere, I guess. I mean, I've always sort of been good at logic."

Sam felt Anya roll her eyes. "So Dean's in Pittsburg?" she asked, leaning over her brother's other shoulder.

Ash shook his head. "No, but it was to harder to track from there. I mean, these trains are private, so they basically go anywhere. But, looks like the journey ended in Cincinnati, at a truck depot where the same company has a few warehouses. It looks like they plan on taking Dean there."

Sam didn't speak for a moment, his mind moving quickly over the information. Then he turned, shaking his head and wandering to the middle of the room. Anya and Ash turned with him.

"What is it?" Anya asked.

"It's too easy," Sam told her. "They left a trail clear as daylight. No demon leaves a trail like that. Unless they want it to be left."

Anya shook her head. "What do you mean?"

But Ash had got it. He sighed, closing his eyes. "It means they want us to follow. Or they want Sam to follow. It's a trap."

Sam nodded. "What I want to know is why?"

But neither Ash nor Anya had an answer. Sam had a few, he just didn't know which was the right one. And he wasn't about to share them.

He took a deep breath, back in that rational state of mind that would get him to Dean. "Okay. We know it's a trap. That gives us an advantage. We go to Cincinnati. We look for Dean. And maybe we'll spring the trap, and give them a few surprises."

After a moment both of them nodded. Neither was convinced, Sam knew. But it didn't matter. They were coming, and he had their help. Help he knew he needed.

They left the warehouse ten minutes later after having gathered all the papers from that office. Sam took the lead in the Impala, feeling incredibly lonely as he drove off by himself. To take his mind off it, he turned his thoughts to the possibilities that had instantly sprung to mind.

In his opinion, there were only two possibilities, two reasons why the demons had left a trail like this one.

Possibility one. They had freaked out when they realized there were more hunters than just Sam tailing them, but still wanted them to try and rescue Dean. It just had to be on their terms.

Possibility two. It hadn't been Dean they were after.

He knew which one was more likely, and it turned his veins to ice.

* * *

Dean sat in the seat, unable to relax. His hands gripped the arms as hard as he could, and he shut his eyes against the terror. Every now and then he would mutter a little prayer that soon, very soon, this would end.

Damn, but he hated flying.

And this couldn't even be called flying, not really. For flying you needed an aeroplane. And this little monster of a thing couldn't be called an aeroplane. It was way too small, seating only ten people, including him.

Oh, and it didn't help that the other nine people included eight demons and freaky-ass psychic chick. All out for blood. His blood.

He had learned, quickly, that these demons became very pissed very easily. For the hour drive to a small airstrip, he had decided to be a smartass. Within ten minutes he had felt a bruise coming along where one of the demons watching him had hit him. Hit him hard.

Now, these demons watched him, utterly amused at his jelly-legged, sweat-popping fear. Eve couldn't even be bothered doing that. Apart from telling the demons not to hurt him enough to kill him, she had completely ignored him since she had torn his thoughts from his mind.

Well, they had obeyed. In fact, their hits had done little except bruise. They didn't even draw blood. He had a feeling however, that more pain would come. More intense pain that was.

One demon especially was watching him with a blood-thirsty glare. It was the one who had hit him first, and the one who had hit him the hardest. It was a fire demon; it had proudly shown off its skills as they had waited for the plane at the airfield, burning sections of grass until Eve had told it not to leave such a trail for hunters to follow. And then, much to Dean's disgust, it had glared at him, as if the reprimand was his fault.

A sudden rush of turbulence made the plane shake. Dean opened his eyes wide, gripping yet harder. His heartbeat was so fast he swore he was about to have a heart attack. Another one.

Slowly the plane eased back into that slightly bouncy motion, and Dean shook his head. This was just horrible. Not only did he have to be captured by demons. He had to be captured by demons who liked to fly everywhere.

He was just getting his heart under control when there was another bout of turbulence, rougher this time. He bounced in his seat, and then gripped even harder; his knuckles were white, and his fingers were starting to ache.

Again the plane's motion died, and Dean began to breathe again. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the seat. And then opened his eyes again when he felt a presence in front of him.

He looked up into the fire demon's smiling face. Grinning actually. Smirking hard at Dean's very obvious discomfort.

The bald demon squatted down in front of him. "Not enjoying the ride, Winchester?" it asked.

Dean shrugged. "It'd be better if the stewardess was hot," he replied through gritted teeth.

The demon cocked its head. "You must be scared, if that's the best you can come up with."

"Give me time, my comebacks will blow your head off. Hopefully, that's literally."

The demon paused for a moment, his face passive. Then it slapped him, hard enough to cause flashes of light to appear in his eyes. Bound to the chair, he could do little but shake his head to clear his sight. And in that line of sight, the demon was just preparing to strike again.

"Brock, leave it!" Eve's voice suddenly ordered. Dean looked around to find her standing by him, staring intently at the demon. At Brock, Dean guessed, who was staring daggers at him. But the demon left, and Eve took his place.

She stood in front of him, staring down with amused indifference. Then she gave a short chuckle.

"You hunters never know when to quit," she told him quietly. Dean just lifted his eyebrows.

"We're a stubborn kind," he admitted. "It's why we kick your asses, why you're a dying breed."

She actually laughed. Dean frowned, then glared as her laughter continued. Finally it died down, but she continued smiling.

"Ah, you really have no idea, do you Dean?" When he continued frowning, she leaned in, whispering. "The war's just beginning. You think we're a dying breed? You haven't even scratched the surface with what's on our side. Lines so deep you won't see the end."

Dean leaned forward as far as he could, until he was mere inches from Eve's face. "Bullshit," he whispered as menacingly as he could. "And it wouldn't matter. You're evil. And good always wins." And he would cling to that childish hope, because it gave him hope.

It was her turn to lean forward, until she was right by his ear. She spoke so softly that Dean almost didn't hear it. "Not if good's on our side."

She leaned back, and smirked at his angry expression. "Still stubborn. Good. Life would be boring without hunters like you."

He didn't answer for a moment. "What do you want?" he snarled at her after a while, and she gave another short laugh.

"Sammy. That's who we want. What we want though… you can't know that yet." She crossed her arms.

Dean shook his head. "So why leave? Why leave that warehouse? Sam was coming. He was coming, and even with those other hunters, you could have taken him. What are you planning? Tell me!"

He shouted that last order when she wouldn't answer. It only made her smirk. But she uncrossed her arms and leaned back against the chair in front of him.

"We want him to come to us like a filthy mongrel, begging. We want him to follow us like a lovesick puppy, desperate."

Dean's jaw had dropped as he realized. Then he swallowed noisily. "You planned this," he whispered. It was all he could manage. "You planned everything. Taking me, because you knew Sam would follow."

"To the very fires of hell, if he had to," Eve interrupted. Dean ignored her and continued.

"Letting me see where the warehouse was. Letting me call him. Interrupting just as I was about to tell him you were after him, not me. It was all planned. As a trap for Sam."

The psychic nodded. "We want Sam. But he needs to come to us. Or most of the way."

"So, what, you left little stickers telling him where to go? How to follow you? And why kill those demons? They did exactly what you wanted them to do." Dean was praying for more answers, more knowledge to find a weakness in the woman's plan. But he knew, all too well, what lengths Sam would go to in order to save him. He had let himself be possessed by a demon not five weeks ago, knowing full well it could kill him, just to save Dean. It was made worse by that fact; Sam's willingness to do anything to save Dean was in the fore of in the younger hunter's mind.

Eve watched the thoughts play out across his face, and smiled. "No stickers. Just enough that he shouldn't get too suspicious. And I never did like those three."

Dean was speechless for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No way. It won't work. Sam's too smart. He'll figure out it's a trap. And even if he does come, he'll kill you all."

Eve's smile made him want to shiver. "But Sam won't be in the same place as us. What, you think we'd endanger our only piece of leverage? We sent him to a different place, to Cincinnati in fact. Where we have plenty of ours waiting for him, waiting to take him. And then he'll come here, partially willingly, because he will know it's where you are. You're his weakness, Dean. Not his only one, but certainly the biggest. How does it feel, knowing you'll be the cause of your brother's downfall? The brother you've sworn to protect your whole life."

Dean was still shaking his head. "Sam's smart," he told her. "You won't get him. You won't take him. You won't kill him."

"We don't want to kill him," Eve told the hunter. "And we know fully well we won't 'take' him. That's why he's coming to us."

Dean continued to shake his head. "What do you want with him?" he asked. "Tell me what you're planning!"

But she was shaking her head. "Can't ruin the ending of this little fairytale, can I Dean? Only, this won't end like a fairytale. This, my little hunter, is real life. And in real life…" She paused to lean in, whispering once more in his ear. "Good never wins."

She leaned back, smiling triumphantly. Dean glared at her, his anger mounting so high he had forgotten he was even on a plane.

"Tell me. Tell me what you're planning. Tell me what you want with my little brother!"

She stared down at him, the contempt back. "No. I've told you enough. Brock wants a little fun before we land. As payment for what I told you."

She nodded at the fire demon before turning back to Dean. She winced, though the sadistic glint in her eyes told him it was fake.

"Oh, he's going to have so much fun with you. And he's not even gonna use his powers."

In the endless expansion of the sky, only the demons could hear the screams that exploded from the light plane every now and then, when the pain became too much.


	4. Chapter 4: Flooded

**Disclaimer:**See previous chapters.

**Warning:** Nothing to be worried about, I hope…

**Author's Note:** So, thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, I love you all! I hope you like this next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 4: Flooded

Sam watched as Cincinnati appeared on the horizon. He was exhausted after days of driving. He wasn't even sure how long. The days seemed to meld together as he drove, slept in some crap motel on the side of the road, and then drove some more. The trip had been easier for Ash and Anya, they had taken turns driving. But he had refused to even let them touch the driver's seat of Dean's Impala. And so he had driven alone.

Well, they were here now. Him, and Ash, and Anya. In Cincinnati where Dean hopefully was. Now the problem would be getting Dean out. He knew there would be plenty of demons trying to stop them. But Sam refused to give up. He would follow wherever was necessary to get Dean back, and do whatever he had to in order to protect his older brother.

An hour later all three sat in Sam's motel room. They had two, but Sam's was less crowded, being a single, and the more room they had the better. Better for planning.

"Where do we go from here?" Ash asked from where he was leaning against a desk shoved into a corner. Sam shrugged.

"We stake out the depot where the company's warehouses are. We look at what's what. And, when we're ready, we spring the trap. Once we know what we need to know."

Anya frowned. She was sitting on his bed, making herself right at home. Sam found it weird the way she was immediately comfortable with him. They had been with him for a few days now, for sure, but for most of that they had been either driving or sleeping. Yet Anya acted like she had known him for a while. Maybe it was a hunter thing, he didn't know. Then again, Ash still seemed uneasy.

"Are you sure that's where your brother will be?" she asked. She said it without hesitation, knowing full well how easily he could become distraught about not finding Dean. After all, she had seen him back at the abandoned warehouse, throwing things and having a near full on breakdown. Which she still hadn't mentioned. And yet she was still comfortable around him. Well, he had to say it was refreshing.

The thoughts crossed his mind in that blink of an eye it took him to think of an answer.

"No," he admitted. "But there will be some demons there, for sure. And they'll know where Dean is, if he isn't."

"How do you know demons will be there?" Ash asked curiously. Sam shrugged again.

"Demons don't do random. And, it's a trap. They'll want it easy to find, but impossible to get out of." He looked down at his watch. "All right, we go in tonight. Only surveillance though. We won't attack for a few days."

He smiled confidently at them, a smile which betrayed none of his real anxieties. "Go get some sleep. It's going to be a long night."

* * *

The landing gear shifting out from under the plane was what woke Dean from the blessed land of unconsciousness. He immediately wished he was back there, as pain rolled towards him.

Goddamn demons. He groaned once, rolling his head against the seat. And heard amused chuckles from around him. Goddamn demons.

Some time later, during which he struggled to do anything but moan with every slight bounce, the plane hit the tarmac. He stifled a cry, biting his lip until it drew blood. Not that any new blood would be all that noticeable against his battered face. He just hoped there were no scars. He didn't need anymore.

A little while later the plane came to a halt. Dean forced his eyes to open, fighting the blood and puffiness holding the lids together. His blurry vision didn't see much, just vague shapes moving around the place with a precision that told Dean they had done this before. Many times before.

A few of the shapes exited the plane, while two – or he thought it was two – came towards him. With a deftness that he could only gawk at in his present state, they untied, retied and blindfolded him, all in a minute. And then he was forced to march from the plane. Which wasn't easy on legs that had been sliced several times with a long knife. Not deep enough to do permanent damage, but enough to hurt a hell of a lot, as well as make blood seep continuously over several minutes.

And that was the gist of all his injuries. Thankfully nothing permanent, besides scars. The demon had just aimed to hurt him. And that's what it had done, with an ability that frightened even the hunter.

He kept zoning in and out of full on consciousness. He became lost in nothingness for a time as they walked across what he could only assume was the runway. And then he became aware as he was pushed into a car. At least he wasn't in the boot this time. But this time, he knew, there would be no seeing anything. These demons, led by the psychic Eve, were professionals. And they professionally had him completely within their grasp.

He swallowed as the car started. He was glad, so very, very glad, to be off that plane. But Eve's words were still filtering into his brain.

They had a trap for Sam in Cincinnati. Which wasn't where Dean was. While he had no clue where he was, he knew that much. And Sam…

Eve couldn't have put it better. Sam would follow him to the fires of hell themselves. Only Dean was almost certain she hadn't gone far enough, and Bloomsfeld practically proved it.

Sam would follow him _into _the very fires of hell if he had to.

* * *

The demon filled him so completely it made him want to vomit, to flinch, to fight, to do anything, whatever was necessary to stop it from invading his mind, body and soul so absolutely. But he couldn't. Not yet. And the wait was killing him.

_He couldn't wait much longer, of that he was sure. It was so confident, so huge, so evil, it felt like his mind itself was being perverted just by the demonic presence infesting it. He had to get away, only by now, it was so complete that he had no idea how to get away._

_He was trapped, and he had no idea how. _

_And then came that horrifying moment that he predicted so cleanly that he knew he was dreaming. Only he couldn't do anything about the dream, because there was no one there to pull him from it._

_And, as he and the demon merged for that barest instant as one, the infusion of evil and wrongness into his whole self, was made worse by the fact that he couldn't escape it. There was no escape._

It was at that thought that he felt all of a sudden cold. He gasped, bolting upright, and only just realizing he was awake when he saw Ash and Anya's pale faces staring at him.

And then, as he saw the empty bucket in Anya's shaking hands, he realized he was wet. Soaked, actually. He stared down at himself before looking back up at the twins.

"What did you do that for?" he asked, shaking his head to clear watery hair from his eyes. Only the slightest bit of affront reached his voice, and neither of the younger hunters looked insulted at it.

"We couldn't wake you," Ash explained, his voice relieved. No, it wasn't his voice, Sam realized. He only just stopped from letting the fact that his psychic abilities were back on from showing on his face.

"You were tossing, and moaning," Anya continued. "We tried shaking you, and calling you name, but it wouldn't work. Water was the only thing we could think of."

She was scared, Sam realized. Not of him, not at all. But for him. It touched him, that this almost complete stranger felt that. Or maybe he was just picking up someone else's vibes again. He was pretty sure the room next to his was the honeymoon suite. And that it was occupied.

They were waiting for something, he realized, looking up from his thoughts. He smiled. "Thanks for waking me," he told them, slightly surprised when the words popped from his mouth. He didn't really want to discuss his dreams with these people, especially not that dream.

He shivered as it replayed in his head. He looked up at the twin hunters. "Why'd you come into my room?" he asked, before they could ask any questions about his dreams.

Anya put the bucket down. "It's dusk. We should be going."

A while later they were all squatting outside the fence of the depot. Or, more accurately, outside the fence of the warehouses of the company that they assumed had transported Dean here.

Actually getting here had been little better than hell, for Sam. His psychic vibes had been picking up everything. And he was jus realizing how much he had been depending on Dean. Dean, it seemed, kept him sane. Kept him from reacting so much to everyone's… vibes. Without him there, it was like everything was ten times stronger.

He turned his mind to the job at hand, wondering how he had gotten onto that train of thought. Oh, yeah. He had been thinking. Well, obviously. But he had been thinking that something about this warehouse felt incredibly wrong.

Anya and Ash were looking around, searching, he assumed, for a way in without tipping off the perimeter guards. It should have been suspicious, Sam thought, for there to be armed guards patrolling the warehouses. But then again, it was night, and all the other warehouses were silent. Except the one they had to get into.

Sam shook his head. "They're expecting us," he whispered. Ash nodded.

"They're certainly expecting something. Makes it harder for us to get in and have a better look."

Sam frowned. Then he gasped slightly. "Get down!" he hissed as softly as possible. Ash and Anya obeyed as he laid down flat on the grass.

A moment later a figure walked by, carrying some kind of rifle. As well as a handgun hidden in his jacket and at least two knives. It was a guard, Sam realized. What he had already known was that it was a demon. A demon, patrolling the fence. A demon he had felt from twenty feet away. What was different was that he knew this was in actual fact a person possessed by a demon. That was completely new.

It walked by, and after a few seconds Sam motioned for Ash and Anya to rise. And then he told them to follow him back a little, away from the perimeter.

"What is it?" Anya asked once they were a little distance away.

"A demon. They're all demons. Or they're possessed by demons. At least, I know for sure the guards are. And I'm pretty sure there's a lot more inside. It's a huge trap."

Ash gaped. "How the hell do you know?"

Sam just shook his head. They didn't need to know about his abilities. "I just do. Trust me, I've been hunting a long time. It was a demon."

"So what do we do?" Anya wanted to know. Sam frowned. What he needed was time. Time to use his abilities. Actually, he need time to learn how to use them. He felt like flinching at the thought. Sure, Bloomsfeld had begun the process of accepting the freaky little detail about himself, but the idea was still damn scary.

He turned to Ash and Anya. "We watch. But watch from here. It's too dangerous to be so close to the fence. They'll spot us for sure. You brought binoculars, yeah?"

Then he looked around. The grass they were currently hiding in was long, but it wasn't cover enough. They needed something better. His gaze came to rest on a dark warehouse.

"Actually, come on," he told Anya and Ash. "We need a better position."

Getting into the warehouse was easy enough, and soon they all felt better for being inside. They settled by a window and watched the target warehouse in silence.

For which Sam was grateful. Because what he was about to do wasn't going to be easy and he needed all of his concentration.

Ever since they had left Lawrence, for the second time, he had called Missouri Mosely at least once a week. In secret, when Dean was sleeping, or at a bar or something. When Dean wasn't around, in any case.

Well, he hadn't called her since Bloomsfeld. His powers had been taking on a life of their own, or so it seemed, and he wasn't sure that she could actually help him anymore. But she had told him enough to know the possibilities of what his psychic abilities could do.

And one of them was similar to what he had been doing with that ghost back when he still had Dean. Only this time, he would have to stretch himself further. Look further, he meant. He shuddered at the thought; he still didn't completely trust his abilities.

He started almost immediately, taking a few inconspicuous deep breaths, steadying his breathing. He was nervous. Once more he was about to force his powers to do something. He hadn't done that since using them to find Dean in Bloomsfeld. And once more Dean wasn't here to watch out for him.

He closed his eyes, drifting in his own mind, but carefully keeping the memory door closed. He took a few more deep breaths, knowing that Ash and Anya had no idea what he was doing. They were carefully watching the warehouse for anything.

He blocked them out. He needed all his attention focused. Focused. He drifted further for a while. And then he fell.

He flailed for the barest instant before he realized the fall was completely within his own mind. Or, more precisely, it was a fall into the psychic state, outside his own mind. He thought. He wasn't clear on where he went – he had only done it one other time – just that it was a completely mental thing. No physical attached. Not yet, anyway.

He took control much easier than he had in Bloomsfeld, stopping the fall with surprising grace. No spinning, no out of control; he just seized it, and began to get to work.

He concentrated on the warehouse. Now he could feel everything in there. Every being in that place, right down to the rats. And he swallowed, feeling the evil of the demons like a dark plague on his mind. He ignored it, knowing if he didn't it would drive him mad. And then he searched.

He searched long and hard. But he found… nothing. Nothing human anyway. Just the demons and the rats.

Dean wasn't here.

It was then that the pit exploded in his stomach. He retreated instantly, knowing that he had to leave. Not just this. But the warehouse, the town, the state. Because Dean wasn't here. And he was never going to be here.

So he retreated. Or tried to. Something else was there. Blocking his path. He panicked, and fled, knowing exactly what it was. Maybe the door had been closed, but the memories hadn't been locked away. They had found their way out.

He ran from the memory, knowing that if it caught him in this state, it would kill him. Or he would wish it would, because there was no Dean to pull him back. And he had no idea where Dean was. _Where are you, Dean?_

Pain suddenly exploded in his head the instant the thought ended. He cried out – he was sure he called for Dean – physically clutching at his head, and noticing Ash and Anya spinning to see what was wrong. But he only just noticed it, because then the vision swamped him, responding to the psychic's plea for help.

_A woman, exuding power and confidence, looked down with contempt at a huddled figure on the floor. A bald man, a demon, came from the shadow, from upstairs. He wasn't confident like the woman, but panicked and fearful. The woman smirked at it where the demon wasn't looking._

"_He's here," the demon told the woman. She nodded. _

"_I know." She never turned her gaze from the groaning body on the floor. "Help me with this, Brock. When he thinks his brother is dead, he'll explode, and be ripe for the picking."_

_There was hidden meaning in her words, but the demon, Brock, didn't catch it. With a flick of his hand, the figure on the floor was thrown hard against the wall. It was Dean._

_The hunter groaned, head rolling. He was barely recognisable under the bruises and blood marring his face. He was hurting, hurting bad, so bad that he struggled to breathe, let alone fight back._

_Flicker._

Somewhere outside the vision, Sam felt himself groan as well, as the pain in his head mounted. And he could feel… _it_. Feel it catching up, catching up to where he was helplessly within the grasp of his vision.

_Flicker._

_The woman walked up to his brother, triumphant, evil smile on her face. She cupped his cheek in her hand, and Sam felt a surge of power. Dean screamed at it, twisting how he could, trying desperately to get away as the psychic invaded his mind._

_Flicker._

And then it found him.

_Flicker._

_The demon filled him, completely, absolutely. It invaded his everything… his mind, body, soul, and Sam felt perverted just from the mere presence absorbing him. It rolled towards him…_

_Flicker._

_Dean screamed at it, twisting how he could, trying desperately to get away as the psychic invaded his mind. It lasted for the barest instant, but when she took her hand away, Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe._

_Flicker._

_It rolled towards him, as unstoppable as an infinitely dark thundercloud against the otherwise clear sky of Sam's psychic mind. It intruded on everything, on everything that made Sam, Sam. And it made him feel so wrong he felt he couldn't take anymore. _

Flicker.

The vision still held him, the memory filled him, and he clutched at his head. He was only prevented from screaming by a hard hand over his mouth. He flailed in pain and the need to get away, but Ash and Anya held him down, making sure he made no noise to attract the demons at the warehouse. And they looked at each other worriedly.

_Flicker._

_A woman, exuding power and confidence, stared down with contempt at a huddled figure on the floor. Then she smirked. _

"_He's coming closer Dean. And with him comes your death." She knelt down beside the moaning body, the hurting body, and whispered. "Don't worry, the pain won't last long. And then his power will be mine, and you can be together again."_

_She stood and a minute later the demon came in, panicky and fearful._

_Flicker._

_He couldn't take anymore. He was drowning, drowning in the demon's evil, dark, wrong presence in his mind. It filled him… and then, for the barest instant it was him. It was him, and it was the demon, and any sense of Sam was very nearly lost as that evil power turned over everything, perverted everything in it's conquest of his mind._

_Flicker._

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. The demon nodded._

"_Now, he'll come. And he'll be angry. And then we'll take him."_

_Flicker._

_The woman sat on the roof and watched the full moon from the window. Below stretched a forest, deep, dense, overpowering. In the distance, a city stood, bright on the horizon. To her left stretched water. Not forever though. A lake. A big one. _

_She smiled, knowing he would come. _

"_And then he'll be mine."_

_Flicker._

_Any sense of Sam was very nearly lost as that evil power turned over everything, perverted everything in its conquest of his mind. Not long, he promised himself, feeling wretched, and wrong, and tainted. And still the demon continued to invade all._

_Flicker._

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe._

_Flicker._

_The demon continued to invade all._

_Flicker. _

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe._

_Flicker._

_The demon continued to invade all._

_Flicker._

Outside his mind, Sam's body continued to buck, desperate to escape the repetition of his two worst fears in the world. He twisted, but there was no escaping his own mind.

_NO!_ he screamed somewhere inside his own mind. He wouldn't let it kill him. He wouldn't let it hurt him anymore. Not when he had a job to do. Not when he still had to find,

"Dean!"

_Flicker._

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't –_

_Flicker._

Darkness.


	5. Chapter 5: Psychic Connection

**Disclaimer:**Sigh.

**Warning:** Sammy has a potty mouth, ie he swears a bit in the chapter. F-bomb away…

**Author's Note:** Again (and all the time) thanks to everyone who reviewed! Have fun with this next chapter, and I love every single person who reads this! Yes, that includes you.

* * *

Chapter 5: Psychic Connection

Dean had no idea where they were when Eve suddenly yelled out.

"Pull over!" she ordered desperately. The man driving did as told, pulling the car over instantly. Dean, still blindfolded, heard a door open, and someone got out. He could hear that person, he was sure it was Eve, he could hear Eve pacing up and down beside the car. And then she struck it.

"That fool!" she snapped. Dean was sure he could hear fear in her voice. "What does he think he's doing? He'll kill himself!"

Dean swore his heart stopped. She was talking about Sam. He just knew it. What was Sam doing?

He began struggling against his bonds, for the first time in the long drive since leaving the plane. The fear for his little brother was a remarkable incentive to fight both the demons and the fog in his mind. Even when the demon to his right jabbed him with a sharp fist.

"What's he doing?" he yelled out, his question muffled by the hood on his head. He felt Eve turn to him. And then suddenly the hood was gone.

He blinked in the light of the car, though it was dark out, and shook his head to remove the blurry quality to his vision. Then he turned to Eve.

"What's he doing?" He practically begged for an answer with his tone. He needed to know, needed to know what was happening with Sam.

"He's trying to find you!" she snapped. She shook her head. She was angry, Dean could tell fully well. What she hid better was that the anger was at herself. She continued, not realizing Dean had realized. "He's using his powers, to see if you're in that warehouse."

Dean's eyes widened. "He can do that?"

She nodded shortly. "Only he doesn't know how to shut the rest of it out while he's in that state! He'll kill himself."

Dean didn't follow, and told her so. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in annoyance.

"It means, fool, that he's vulnerable. While in a psychic state, anything can come at him. Visions, memories stronger than the real thing…" She shook her head. "He'll flood his own mind with images, and he'll kill himself."

Dean just gaped. "But he -." She cut him off before he could continue.

"In Bloomsfeld he had that room. That room was protected, to allow only one purpose. And to keep everything else out while someone did what they had to do."

Dean felt himself turning white. "You know about Bloomsfeld?"

But she didn't answer. Eve, too, had turned white. With fear? It couldn't be. Not this woman.

"Son of a bitch," she suddenly muttered. Dean was surprised; it was the first time he had heard her swear.

But they didn't get anymore out of her. She suddenly turned away from the car, walking part way to the forest's edge not more than a few feet away from the car. Dean was startled to realize they were deep in a forest, and the smell of mud was heavy on the air.

Eve took out a phone and quickly dialled a number. Someone must have answered just as quickly, because a second later she spoke into it.

"Do you have him?" she asked briskly. Silence for a moment. And then she seemed to erupt.

"What do you mean, who?" she screamed. "The boy, of course!"

Again silence. It was hard listening to one side of a conversation.

"Of course he's there! Can't you feel him, fool?" she shouted. A pause. "Son of a bitch!"

This time it was screamed. Dean smirked. Somehow Sam's power dip had gone unnoticed by the demons in Cincinnati. How, he wasn't sure, but he was damned pleased.

Eve, for the first time looking out of her depth, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Well, go out and find him! The old fashioned way! With your eyes!"

She snapped the phone shut, muttering, "I'm going to kill him," under her breath. Dean fervently hoped she meant the demon she had been speaking to and not Sam. And then any thoughts but those of his own safety were pushed from his mind as Eve opened the car door and pulled him from it. Pulling another demon from it at the same time.

He landed in mud, but didn't really notice as Eve leaned down. She was incredibly angry. And scared, Dean realized.

"When did he learn to cloak his powers?" she asked. Dean just stared at her. It wasn't just to annoy her either. He had no idea what she was talking about.

If anything however, his silence seemed to calm her. Her face got back that serene evil look. And she reached out with her hand. She cupped his cheek before he could even think about getting away.

The light burst into his head again, and he yelped, trying to get away. But it lasted only a second, and she leaned back, leaving him lying in the mud, gasping for breath. And struggling to stay awake.

He felt hands grabbing him, dragging him back into the car. He didn't care. He sat, quietly, feeling far too tired to even fight. But even as he began to drift, a slight smile lit his face.

They had underestimated Sam. And that gave him hope.

* * *

The darkness left far too quickly for Sam's liking. He woke fast, and the memories assaulted him. Pushing someone, Ash, out of the way, he spun to the side, to his hands and knees, and began vomiting, heaving so hard it was difficult to breathe.

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. The demon continued to invade all._

"No!" he shouted hoarsely in a break between puking. "Fuck off!"

He was shouting it at his mind, but Ash and Anya backed off, stung. He didn't care. He barely even noticed.

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. The demon… He didn't move… Continued to invade… He didn't even breathe… The demon continued to invade all… He didn't even breathe._

He turned round, backing into a corner he instinctively knew was there. He sat there, rocking, heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to force the images from his mind. To force the feelings from his mind.

"No!" he shouted again. "Get out of my head!"

But they stayed. _Dean's head slumped against his chest. The demon continued to invade all. He didn't even breathe._

A sudden hand on his shoulder made him jump. He looked up, not realizing tears had been running, not realizing he had been saying words over and over again. _Get out of my head._

He looked up into Anya's face. She was scared, petrified actually. But not of him. And somehow, somehow, it made him calm down. Made the visions recede until they sat in the back of his mind, ready to plague him one night after he had closed his eyes.

"We have to leave. Now," he told her before she could ask anything. She seemed a little disgruntled about that but it was Ash who asked the question.

"Why?" he asked. Clearly he was not as fearless of him as his sister. Sam wondered what he had been doing, to give them that pale anxious look.

Sam wiped his face. "We just do. I don't have time to explain now. I will, I swear, later. But now, we have to leave."

He stood, shakily. And then only avoided falling by Anya's quick catch. He was weak. Very weak. He eased his own weight underneath himself, standing on trembling legs. What had he done?

Suddenly he gasped. Then he shook his head. "We have to leave as quickly as we can. They're coming."

He could feel them. Just as well as he could when he was in the psychic zone. He could feel the demons coming closer. Looking for him. "We have to go right now!"

The desperation in his voice must have spurred them on, because they both turned, gathering their stuff. He did the same with his, keeping a gun out. The silver bullets would work on the demons. He was sure of it.

At his example, Ash and Anya did the same. Ready, they all began to walk from the office they had been watching from. Sam smiled to find himself in the middle of the younger hunters. Anya led, gun up. Maybe they sensed his own tension. Maybe they had an inkling of what to expect. Or maybe not.

Anya went to open the door. It was at that moment that the pit erupted in Sam's stomach. Again.

"Anya, watch out!" he shouted, lurching forward and tackling her to the ground. It was just in time as something blew the door apart.

Splinters flew everywhere with shocking force. Ash, using surprisingly quick reflexes, had dived behind a desk, and so was sheltered from any of the bigger pieces of wood. Anya was covered by Sam's much larger form. The Winchester however, bore the brunt of the explosion, and grunted as he felt several pieces hit him, drawing blood.

He didn't even give it a thought. Once the last piece of the door had fallen to the floor, he rose, gun up, firing instinctively. Or psychically. However he did it, he heard three bullets hit three bodies before the pain hit him.

He gasped, moving out the way as Ash and Anya rushed in, guns raised, to finish off the rest. He sat against the wall and looked down. Then he looked away, banging his head against the wall in annoyance.

Great. Just great. Not only was he wrecked from using way too much of his abilities. He now had a foot long piece of splintered wood sticking in his side, pissing out blood. That was going to be a bitch to get out.

Sudden silence made him open his eyes in time to find Anya kneeling in front of him. Ash was taking off his jacket. Sam winced as it was placed against the wound. Anya started looking through her bag, and Sam realized her intentions.

"No," he told her, putting a hand on hers. "Not here. We have to leave. There's more, more coming. They'll be here in about two minutes."

They didn't question how he knew this, not verbally anyway. But they both shared a look as Ash helped him to his feet. Anya took the bags and they made their way from the warehouse just in time. Sam felt the demons' anger at their sudden disappearance.

They took the Impala back to the motel. Ash drove, much to Sam's concern. But he kept his concerns quiet as he and Anya sat in the back. He refused to let her touch the wound in the car.

"Dean'll kill me if he finds blood on the upholstery," he told her. She just rolled her eyes and muttered something he preferred to ignore.

Once they were back at the motel, Ash half-carried him into the single room and practically dumped him on his bed. Anya followed right behind.

"Can I have a look now?" she asked angrily. Sam grinned.

"Thought you'd never ask," he muttered, lifting his arm. He winced again as she pulled the now bloody jacket away. She shook her head in annoyance. Not at him. He figured she was one of those people who hated anyone being hurt, and got annoyed at it.

"It's gonna hurt to get all the little pieces out," she warned him. "And it's going to take a while."

Sam nodded. "I know. But hey, it wouldn't be as bad as rock salt."

She just gave him a weird look and turned back to the wound. At that moment Ash came back in, carrying the rest of their bags. He dumped them on the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. He reappeared a minute later, holding a bowl of steaming water, placing it beside Anya where she was kneeling to get a better look.

Sam looked between the two of them. Both seemed to be avoiding his gaze. "I guess you both want an explanation then."

Ash finally looked up at him. But the kid wasn't angry with him either. Just anxious. In case Sam did something to his sister. Ash was worried Sam was… unstable.

He smiled at this knowledge, but his it from the siblings. He shook his head. "I'm not unstable, Ash," he told the kid. He seemed surprised that Sam had read him so easily. But Anya shook her head.

"No, you're psychic, aren't you?" she guessed. Sam nodded.

"Uh huh."

Ash seemed even more surprised. "Psychic? Wow. I've never met a psychic who hunted before. They're usually too… sensitive to do it. They get… I dunno, a little tainted I suppose. Angry, bitter. Because they're always sensing evil."

Sam forced himself not to swallow. "Yeah, well, I was a hunter long before I knew I was psychic. And it helps. It helped tonight."

This time he did swallow, and bit his lip to keep it from quivering. "Dean's not there. He's never going to be there, he never was going to be there. He's not even in this state."

"You found that out tonight?" Anya asked. He looked down, and was surprised to find she had already removed a lot of the smaller pieces. Not the big one, not yet. He winced in apprehension, but she had a gentle touch. "That's what caused you to… it looked like you were having a seizure."

Sam shook his head. "Doing that isn't what caused me to… whatever I was doing. I had a vision." And was attacked by a memory, but he wasn't about to mention that. "Especially when I'm awake, they're painful. Very painful. I'm not really sure what happened. I'm new at this, so…"

He shrugged. "But I know where we have to -."

He cut off as pain wrenched his side. "Dammit," he spat, looking down. Anya had removed the big piece, and was busily pressing a bandage against the bleeding wound. She shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

"Sorry."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I bet you are." But he said it nicely.

He shook his head again. "As I was saying, I know where we have to go. Or I will as soon as I look at a map."

Ash nodded. Then he bit his lip. "You felt those demons coming, didn't you?"

Sam paused before nodding. Despite his apprehension though, Ash's face warmed. "If you hadn't, Anya would have been impaled by that door, for sure. You saved her life."

Sam shrugged, feeling his face blush. "It's part of the job description."

Ash shook his head. "I still want to thank you. It's a good thing you do your job well."

Sam felt Anya roll her eyes before he could answer. "If you two wanna get a room, I'm happy to leave." But she said it in jest as she taped the last of the gauze to his side. Sam stared down at it with shock. He hadn't even felt her do the stitches.

"You're good," he told her. She smiled with confidence.

"Yep." And she got to her feet, moving to stand against the wall. Sam stood too, but all jokes were stricken from his gaze. He sighed, wishing they had time to recuperate.

"Go back to your room and pack. We have to leave, as soon as possible. The demons will track us back here. It's better for everyone if we leave now."

They both nodded, understanding, and left. Sam turned and began packing his stuff. It wasn't much, and he finished quickly. Bags on the bed, he turned to survey the room, looking for anything forgotten.

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe._

Sam fell to his knees as the vision returned, and with it the pain. Only it wasn't a real vision. Just the memory, the memory of his brother's future death, replaying over and over again in his head.

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Dean's head slumped to his chest._

"No." Sam whispered hoarsely. "No!"_ Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move._

"No! No! No!" He couldn't manage more than a vehement, hoarse, mutter.

And that's when he saw it. Or felt it. Someone, trying to get inside his head. _Dean's head slumped against his chest._ Someone forcing him to relive and relive this moment of the future. Someone stronger than him. _Dean's head slumped against his chest_. NO! _He didn't move._ He wouldn't let them in. _He didn't even breathe._ He wouldn't let them in.

"Get out!" he screamed, feeling something shake. It was the bed. Actually, it appeared to be the whole room. He barely noticed.

Again, he felt an evil presence in his mind. Only this time it was no demon. It was something with far more strength, far more knowledge about what she was doing. And he knew, she wasn't trying to kill him. She wanted to keep him where he was until her cronies came to pick him up. To take to her.

"NO!" he shouted gutturally. "Get out of my head!"

_Dean's head…_ She cackled. _Dean's head slumped against his chest…_ He could feel her pushing the memory onto him, filling his head with pain, both physical and mental. He watched his older brother die over and over again.

"NO!" This couldn't be happening again. He wouldn't let her in, his mind was his own. It was his own!

"Get out!"

The whole room was shaking. _Dean's head…_ It just kept going, and he struggled to get control over it. He could hear the windows rattling, the door shaking. And it was him, he knew it, he just couldn't stop it. He didn't have control enough over his own head.

"Get out!" he screamed as loud as he could, holding on tight to the sides of his head. "Get out, get out, get out!"

_Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Dean's head slumped to his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. _

He could feel her, just outside his vision. Pushing, pushing, always pushing. Trying to get in, to get into his mind.

Well it was his mind. And he wasn't sharing. He had had enough.

The shaking became worse. _Dean…_ He pushed against it, feeling the strain in his head as the pain worsened. _Dean's head…_ He pushed again, pushed at it, ignoring his own discomfort. The window smashed as it felt like the entire motel began shaking. He heard someone screaming about an earthquake, but he didn't recognise it. He was too busy with the battle inside his head, too fearful of his mind being invaded to stop the telekinetic energy spurred by that very fear.

_Dean's…_ "No!" He pushed. He wouldn't find Dean if he was in the hands of the demons himself. Not when it was him they wanted.

_Dean…_ Again he pushed. He pushed as hard as he could.

_De…_ He thrust with his mind, and he heard things crashing to the floor. He didn't recognise those either.

_D…_ He was winning. He could sense her frustration. He pushed again, before she could try again. And suddenly she was gone.

The pain left so quickly Sam could barely comprehend it. He fell to the floor, utterly exhausted. So tired that he couldn't even move. He heard the door break open, and knew that if it were the demons, then he was screwed.

"Sam!" he heard Anya shout. He couldn't even respond. He was trembling, shaking hard. His nose was bleeding, but he didn't even have the strength to care.

There were suddenly feet beside him, and hands turning him around. He looked up at Ash and Anya with relief.

"Milwaukee. Head to Milwaukee." And he passed out.


	6. Chapter 6: Unwanted Explanations

**Disclaimer:** You know, wishful thinking gets you no where.

**Warning:** Bit of nastiness, nothing too bad.

**Author's Note:** So, in this chapter Dean gets some of the answers he's been looking for… and some he never wanted to hear. Hope you likies!

* * *

Chapter 6: Unwanted Explanations

Dean watched with shock as Eve's eyes opened suddenly. And then he smiled. Whatever she had been trying to do, she had failed. He could tell by her growl and fiery eyes.

They were in a rundown old house. Dean wasn't sure where, he had been hooded most of the way here. He could tell though, that it was in the north, there was water nearby, and they were in the forest. Deep in the forest.

He quickly wiped the smirk from his face as Eve turned to him. It didn't matter. She was psychic. She could tell what he was thinking. He decided he might as well fight while he had the chance. And even though he was tied to a chair, very tightly as well he might add, words could be far more infuriating than fists and feet.

"So, no kudos for you tonight, hey Eve."

She growled once more, marching up to him and slapping his hard across the face. "Once your brother gets here, you will be in a world of pain!" she hissed. He smiled at her.

"Yeah, but when will that be? Your trap in Cincinnati failed, remember. You underestimated him. And now he's going to kill all you fugly mofo's."

She sneered at him. "He has to find us first."

Dean shrugged. "He will." He shook his head. "You're not going to be able to kill him. He'll kill you first, and rid the world of your disgusting presence."

She smirked. "That sounded almost poetic, Dean. I didn't realize you were so wordy. But you're forgetting what I told you on the plane."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" he asked blandly.

She leaned in, placing her hands on the arms of the chair he was tied to. "We don't want to kill him."

Dean snarled. "What do you want with him?" he snapped. Actually he didn't really want to know, but he needed to learn her plans if he was going to stop them.

She leaned back, appraising him. He leaned his own head back, cocking it and staring boldly at her. She shrugged and was suddenly smiling.

"You really have no idea? Do you?" she asked. Dean scowled.

"About what?" he snapped. She smirked.

"About what your brother's capable of. His abilities, given the right training, could be incredibly powerful. He's already demonstrated he's far more powerful than even he would believe. Just now, he pushed me from his mind. I think that's Bloomsfeld's influence on him. He's petrified of his mind being invaded."

Dean was silent. He didn't know. He had no clue what Sam went through with his powers. He sure as hell had no idea about Bloomsfeld. But if Sam had pushed Eve from his mind… he had to be pretty bloody strong.

She sighed at his silence, and pulled up a chair, sitting in front of him. "You still don't get it. Sam, and others like him, will make the difference in the war between good and evil. Not much of a difference, mind you, but enough to shift the balance in favour of whatever side most of them are on."

She leaned forward, resting her elbow on her crossed legs. "At the moment, Sam's on the side of good. Only just, mind. When I talk about what he's capable of, I don't mean just in terms of his powers. He's so scared of his powers, so scared that something will come and invade him… he's on edge, walking along an abyss. And it's a long fall. It's actually why we took you. Because Sam will come looking for you, will do anything for you. Hell, he'd jump off it to save you. And when he does, we'll take him. And using his fears against him, turn him."

Dean felt something icy grip his heart. He tried swallowing, but his mouth was dry. He shook his head in denial.

"You won't be able to," he snarled as threateningly as he could. "He will _never_ turn. He hates you all too much. You killed his girlfriend. You killed our mother." He shook his head again. "You will _never_ be able to turn him."

She chuckled for a moment. "Dean, it won't matter. Sam will turn one way or another. It doesn't matter if it's willingly or not. You see…" She paused as she made herself more comfortable. "Sam's like a prize. A very powerful one. But his mind is fragile. Sadly for him, that makes it incredibly easy for someone to possess him with… darkness I suppose. Which is basically what we plan to do. In fact, Sam should feel honoured."

"Why?" Dean was afraid to ask. Eve smiled.

"Because the most powerful of us all plans to do it himself."

Dean trembled, terrified all of a sudden. "_The_ demon?" he asked in a hoarse voice. Eve nodded.

"_The _demon. The demon who killed your precious mummy, the demon who killed pretty little Jess. He is going to take Sam, and implant him with an evil so strong no one will be able to stand before it." She gave a short laugh. "Hell, Sam's already half way there. That aggression, that violence. It isn't just Bloomsfeld making him that way. Sam's already half ours."

Dean shook his head, still shaking. God, he wished he had never called Sam. He wished he had the power to speak to Sam, tell him to run, to hide, because their very archetype of evil was planning to turn him into what he hunted. Only, Dean knew, he knew, that a dark Sam would be impossible to hunt.

"You won't be able to," Dean maintained. "Sam would die before he let himself turn!"

She smiled, and it made Dean shudder. Then Eve stood, and walked towards him, leaning down to whisper in his ear, the way she liked it.

"Not if he thinks you'll die if he doesn't."

* * *

This time Sam woke slowly. He was lying down, in the backseat of a car. That was what he realized first. For a moment he wondered why he was. And where he was. But memory was hard to come by, and he felt too wrecked to pursue it very far.

He was only half awake, he knew that. What else did he know? He was lying down. Wait, he'd already realized that. What else? His head was in someone's lap. A girl's lap. She smelled… like fear, and anxiety, but also of serenity, and… wait, smelled? He was getting his sense mixed up. Damn sixth senses.

What else did he know? The car he was in was going fast. Probably faster than it should be. Who's car was it? He hoped it wasn't Dean's, because Dean would kill him if he found out someone else was driving his car. But it smelled like Dean. And he actually meant smell.

What else? Ah, someone was stroking his hair. He smiled, thinking of the good times when a beautiful blonde girl would do the same.

"Jess," he breathed with a smile. Then he frowned, though not because the hand stopped. Because he had just remembered that Jess wasn't alive. And then all the other memories came flooding back, and he sat up, fully conscious.

He looked around. Anya was watching him, blushing slightly. It had been her who had been stroking his hair. And that was why she was blushing, because she had been caught doing it. Sam blushed as well, and he felt Ash's amusement from the driver's seat.

Sam coughed, moving to the other side of the backseat and putting his seatbelt on. Running an absent hand through his hair, he spoke up.

"Where are we?" he asked. He looked out the window but found he didn't recognise the scenery, especially not in the night. He looked at his watch, finding it was nearly midnight.

"About an hour outside Milwaukee," Ash explained. Sam's jaw dropped.

"How long was I unconscious?"

This time Anya answered, her voice hiding the fact that she was still embarrassed. "Almost a day. We left the motel last night, and have been driving non-stop since. We thought that maybe the demons were responsible for that earthquake last night, so we wanted to run as far as possible as quick as possible."

Sam blushed again. Then he shook his head. "That wasn't an earthquake. And it wasn't the demons. It was me." He felt they deserved the truth from him. After all they had looked after him.

Ash's jaw dropped, and he stared at Sam via the rear view mirror. "You. How'd you do that?"

Sam shrugged. "Telekinesis, I think. It wasn't just my fault, though. Something attacked me. In my mind."

"What?" Anya asked quietly. Sam shrugged.

"I have no idea. But I'm sure it's the same woman I saw in my vision."

"A woman? Not a demon?" Ash had to clarify. Sam nodded.

"She's human. She's just an evil human. And a psychic, I'm assuming. She's the one holding Dean." _So I follow. _He was now sure they wanted him. Why, he had no idea. He could only assume it had something to do with his abilities.

He took his thoughts in more useful directions. "So, Dean is in an old house about an hour north of Milwaukee. We'll have to drive most of the way, then walk a fair distance."

He grinned, remembering the walk through the forest back in New Jersey. "And you'll have to do it a lot quieter than you did the night I met you."

Anya scowled. "It's not our fault we hardly ever go to the country. Most of our jobs are in towns, or the cities."

"Hey, it's okay," he told her gently. He had meant it as a joke. "We'll just have to go carefully. And we'll still go mostly by the road, just on the edge."

"When do you want to do it?" Ash asked, glancing in the mirror. Sam checked his watch.

"Tonight. As soon as we get there. Dean doesn't need to spend any more time with them than he already has."

Ash frowned. "Are you sure? I mean, it's been a long drive."

Sam nodded. "I'm sure. We'll be right." He considered the other two. They did both look incredibly tired. "Pull over when you can, Ash. I'll drive the rest of the way."

* * *

Sam drove on in the dark, wincing every time he sent the Impala through a pothole in the winding dirt road leading to Dean. He drove slowly, lights dipped, cautious of any movement around him. He was letting his senses drift, like he had back in New Jersey, sensing the ghost. Now though, there was nothing close. Nothing he had to worry about at least

He spied a spot up ahead where he could park the Impala while they rescued Dean. It would be hidden by bush, if he made it so. Dean would grumble a bit about mud, but the older hunter would get over it. Eventually.

He put the car in park and turned to wake Ash and Anya where they were sleeping in the backseat.

"What time is it?" Ash asked, while his sister gave a yawn. Sam checked his watch.

"Just past four. Come on, we have to walk from here."

They grabbed what they needed from the trunk. He had found out earlier that Ash and Anya had left their car back in Cincinnati, filling the Impala's trunk with their weapons. Now, each of them carried a few guns, knives, and a book full of exorcism rituals. Sam had no idea what to expect, mostly because he refused to expect what his vision had shown him. Dean wouldn't be dead. He wouldn't. And so he decided to expect anything and everything.

Ready weapon-wise, they took off after leaving the Impala covered with branches and bush. Sam winced as they left, hoping the mud would do little damage to Dean's precious car.

The mud. Sam decided halfway through the walk that he hated the forest. The mud was bad enough in the dark. It squelched, and left tracks. And then it began raining.

When he felt it start he groaned. The mud became worse, but at least the heavy rain washed away their tracks. That's what he kept on telling himself as the three of them trudged on in the night.

It was half an hour later when Sam first sensed a demon. He stopped immediately, surprised by its closeness. And then he ushered Ash and Anya off the road.

"What is it?" Anya asked quietly. Sam put his finger to his lips, telling them to be quiet. They listened, and an instant later a figure walked by their hiding place.

They barely breathed as the demon walked past, carrying a rifle in its hands. It walked by, and Sam was hopeful it would continue walking. But it stopped, looking around as if searching for something.

Sam again motioned for Anya and Ash to be quiet. Then, as silently as possible, he stood, and snuck up on the demon. He knew it was a demon, not a person possessed by a demon. And that made it easier to sneak up on the bastard, grab it's head and slit its throat, all before it could even make a noise.

He snuck back to his companions, who were watching him intently. There was no accusation in their eyes; they would have done the same thing.

"We're getting close," Sam told them. He could sense a large group of them somewhere nearby. "Know what you have to do?" He just had to make sure. There could be no mistakes.

Anya rolled her eyes, but her brother recounted the orders Sam had given them. Not that he had realized they were orders. Well, neither had Anya or Ash, not really.

"Once we get in, head for the main group. Bunk down somewhere, and take pot shots at the first demon we see. Then take out as many as possible when the rest come running."

Sam nodded. "I'll get there as soon as possible," he told them. "Hopefully Dean will be all right enough to hold a gun." He paused for a moment, and cocked his head as if listening intently. Then he shook his head. "It shouldn't be hard. There are only about eight or nine of them. And if you find a good spot, they won't have a target."

He nodded, and they nodded in reply. Standing again, the three moved off.

Following his senses, Sam led the way to the house. And there it was. The derelict old house from his vision. He could just see a figure disappearing from the roof and recognised the woman who had killed Dean. Well, not yet. Not ever, not if Sam had something to say about it.

Sam stopped again at the edge of the forest, just before it gave way to trees. He let his mind drift, and then gasped, before smiling with relief.

"Dean's in there," he told the other two hunters. Things would be all right. Everything would be okay. He turned to Ash and Anya.

"This is it," he told them. "The moment of truth."

He paused for a moment. "If things go south, get out of there, okay. Don't wait around for me or Dean. If things go wrong, just leave."

He paused again, and then smiled. "You'll be fine." And he said it so confidently that they couldn't help but believe him. Then he sighed, but it didn't ruin their good feeling. "Thanks for helping me. I wouldn't have made it this far without you." He wouldn't have made it out of New Jersey without them.

He nodded. Then, before he could stop himself, he turned to Anya. "Be careful, okay."

She seemed as surprised as him, but she soon got over it, smiling and nodding. "You too Sam."

To the side, Ash was grinning.

Sam smothered a cough, wondering why he had just said that. Then he smiled again. "See you on the other side."

He moved off, meaning to get around the back of the house. Dean was in the basement, or so he thought. Somewhere underground. Ash and Anya would go in via another route. He would take the backdoor.

Keeping to the edge of the forest, he pulled out a gun. He knew that none of the demons here were possessing humans. He had no qualms at all about killing them. Besides, they had taken Dean.

He made it easily to the back of the house, stopping as he leaned against the cold, stone side of the building. He concentrated, enough to know if any demons were within a twenty-foot radius. And then he entered the house.

He walked into the laundry, barely noticing the mould or peeling wallpaper. He moved stealthily forward, keeping to the walls. He didn't want to alert any demons to his presence before Anya and Ash had begun firing.

This in mind, he stopped as he felt a demon heading his way. He ducked into a nearby room, keeping the door open so he could see what walked past.

The demon had just gone by when the sound of gunfire filled the house. The demon stopped, spinning, and turning white. In the moonlight, Sam could see it was the demon from his vision.

Suddenly the demon ran the way it had come. Sam made up his mind in an instant, following the demon as quickly but as quietly as he could. It didn't know it was being followed, at which Sam smirked. It was panicking.

What he had forgotten about was his muddy feet, and the subsequent easy trail made by said muddy feet.

As he watched the bald demon, Brock, disappear down a set of stairs, he suddenly became aware of a demon trying to sneak up on him. Thankful for his abilities, he turned, surprising the demon. Not for long though. It lunged immediately, and Sam didn't have time to bring the gun up before it tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms beneath its heavy body.


	7. Chapter 7: Capabilities

**Disclaimer:** Dum di di, dum da da

**Warning:** Swearing. Little bit of violence. Whole lot of psychic mind-thumping.

**Author's Note:** So, there's not long now. Two chapters, and then the end. But first, this chapter… duh.

* * *

Chapter 7: Capabilities

Dean looked up as feet walked sedately down the stairs into the basement where he was tied to a chair. In only his shirt. Damn, but it was cold.

Eve appeared all too soon, her smiling face making him shiver. He blamed the cold.

She walked towards him, still smiling. He wanted to do something, anything, to wipe the smug, triumphant look from her face.

She stopped a foot away, crossing her arms. "Guess who's here," she told him in a light tone. Dean glared.

"I'm guessing it's Sam. I told you he'd find me. You should run now, before he kills you."

She rolled her eyes. "That was the plan, Dean. Of course we want Sam here. Here is where Sam ends, and victory begins."

He shook his head. "It's not happening. Sam will never let you. I won't let you."

She smiled, then brought out a gun, a shotgun. His heart ran cold for a moment. "You fire that, and Sam's going to come running down here and shoot you in the ass."

She chuckled at that. "Oh, he's not in the house yet. He won't hear it. Besides every wall of this basement is solid stone. It won't sound like much, trust me."

And then she aimed it at him.

He refused to scream as she pulled the trigger. And then was glad he hadn't when the shot blew the legs of his chair off. He collapsed onto the ground, groaning as day old wounds flared up.

He rolled over onto his back, flinching as she tossed the shotgun away. Then he tried to crawl backwards as she stalked towards him. It was just more than a little hard with his hands still tied behind his back. He only ended up scraping them on the stone floor. The cold stone floor. And she still caught him, straddling him as she leaned in to cup his cheek.

He grunted as something new ripped through his mind. It was her power, undiluted, unfiltered. And as her power ripped through his mind, he felt his body jerk with the pain that began to rip through it as well.

He gritted his teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of screaming. He jerked and flailed, but her hand was basically stuck to his cheek. And still the power kept on coming. Was this what Sam felt when he had his visions? The thought suddenly sprang to mind.0020If so, it was worse than he could ever have imagined.

And then suddenly she let go of his cheek, and he collapsed, shivering on the floor, unable to even turn his head and spit on her. She stood, chuckling to herself, and he wondered what on earth, or in hell, had turned her so insanely evil. She was a woman, despite being psychic, yet she was far scarier, far more vicious than most demons.

She gave him a kick for good measure, before she turned away, looking overhead. She smiled as if she had found something. And Dean knew for sure she had found Sam.

"I'm going to tell you something, Dean," Eve said from where she continued looking up at the ceiling. "I haven't told anyone else here. But you'll be dead in about five minutes so I don't think it matters. What do you think?"

She turned back to look at him, helpless on the floor. Dean hated it. He hated being helpless. But he was just so tired. And in a hell of a lot of pain.

"I think the next holiday I take is going to be far more demon free. And I'm giving back the psychotic psychic chick."

She gave him another kick and he grunted. "You're far too mouthy for your own good, Dean," she told him.

She turned back to watching the ceiling. Her gaze moved ever so slightly, as if following something.

"Your brother sure is something," she told him suddenly. It sounded as if she were purring with pleasure, or the anticipation of pleasure. It made Dean want to throw up. Or maybe that was the blood loss. Or the undoctored concussion finally catching up with him.

"He holds so much power. The fools think they can contain it. Control it. That much strength is like ten wild bulls. And the idiots, all together, are like a single man on an old nag. It's just not going to happen."

She turned back to him, fully aware that she now had Dean's complete attention. What the hell was she talking about?

"But you see, a girl has her own agenda. I mean, I want Sam as well. Well, that's not strictly true. I want Sam's powers as well. Sam himself would just be a nuisance."

Dean swallowed. "What are you talking about?" he asked hoarsely.

She smiled. "Don't you see Dean? There's no way in hell I'm just going to hand over Sam to these lousy excuses for power. These idiot demons wouldn't even hold onto him long enough to hand over to their master."

Their master? Not her master. She was cheating them. Only it was Sam they were cheating over, not some stupid, inanimate object. His little brother, being treated like the prize in some huge fight between evil and evil. He felt himself glare.

"So, I'm going to take him myself. I'm going to take his powers myself. And with that strength, I'll be able to challenge your demon itself."

Dean's mouth went dry. "What are you, some kind of shtriga?" He had to keep her talking. The longer he kept her talking, the longer he could work on his bonds. Which he was maybe halfway through.

She shook her head at his question. "No, but I am a witch. Powerful. Now, anyway. I was born pathetic. Practically human. Human by all accounts. Until I discovered the power to drain people of their strength. Suck them dry until they're little more than dust."

"So, you're some psychic vampire on a power trip." He had meant it as an insult, but she just laughed, nodding.

"And your brother will be my biggest trip yet."

Suddenly she dived for him, cupping his cheek once more and sending that rippling pain exploding through his body. This time he couldn't help but scream, only it was blocked by a tight hand over his mouth.

This time it lasted longer, and it left him huddling on the floor, shivering with the memory of pain that wouldn't wash from his limbs.

Eve stared down at him with contempt. Then she smirked.

"He's coming closer Dean. And with him comes your death." She knelt down beside him and a mere touch from her was enough to make him flinch and moan. She whispered into his ear one last time. "Don't worry, the pain won't last long. And then his power will be mine, and you can be together."

She stood and barely a minute later the fire demon, Brock, came in, panicky and fearful.

"He's here," the demon said, his voice shaking. He was afraid of Sam, and it made Dean want to smile. He would have if hadn't been feeling so exhausted.

Eve nodded. "I know." She never turned her gaze from Dean, who refused to wilt under it. "Help me with this. Brock. When he thinks his brother is dead, he'll explode, and be ripe for the picking."

Dean, unable to even turn his head to look at his two sadistic captors, didn't see the hand flick that sent him crashing into the wall. His head bounced, and he groaned, feeling yet more pain hit him.

The hunter groaned again, letting his head roll. He felt so bad. Exhausted, hurt. But he refused to give up. Only he was struggling to find the strength to breathe, let alone fight back

He could only watch as Eve walked forward, triumphant grin so jarring on his slipping mind. He could only watch as she reached out with her palm, and once more her power flooded him. He jerked, trying to get away, somehow finding the barest strength to do that. It was a new power, just as painful, weaving a spell over him, he knew it.

It lasted for the barest instant, but it was enough. As she removed her hand and stepped back, Dean let his head slump onto his chest. He could feel his mind going black, wrapped in a cocoon. And he knew he was a goner. He couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe.

* * *

Sam groaned as the demon drove another fist into his stomach. It had the advantage and it was using it well. His arms pinned, Sam could do little as the demon pounded away.

And then he felt something. It was like a flash of light out of the corner of his eyes. Only it wasn't in his eyes, it was in his mind. Like a surge of power.

Suddenly remembering his vision with a precision that terrified him, he knew he needed to get away. Wincing in apprehension, he sat up as hard as he could, driving his forehead into the nose of the demon. Maybe they didn't feel pain while possessing humans, but this demon sure as hell felt that. It rolled away, and Sam grabbed his knife, plunging it into the thing's chest.

Hoping it was now dead, he pushed the body away and stood up on shaky legs, placing a hand at his forehead. Now, where were those damn stairs.

He found them quickly, moving as fast as he could. His heart pounded, and his breathing was laboured. Dean would be all right. Dean would be all right. He would be. He would be.

He didn't care about discretion anymore. He basically flew down those stairs, gun at the ready. Not that anyone could be ready for what awaited him down there.

He refused to look until he was off the stairs. The first thing he allowed himself to notice was the cold. And then… and then he looked up.

He could sense two people in the room. Two, besides himself. Or not people, but living things. One was the bald demon who had walked past him not five minutes ago. And the woman from his vision. Both turned to stare at him. But he barely noticed them, besides knowing they were there. His vision was filled with the third figure, the one on the wall, being held by nothing. The figure that he couldn't feel. The figure that wasn't moving. The figure who wasn't even breathing.

"Dean?" Sam barely even whispered it. _Dean's head slumped against his chest. He didn't move. He didn't even breathe._

"Dean!" This time he shouted it, just as he felt anger well up from… somewhere. It came from deep, somewhere deep within him, and he felt it travel through him until he couldn't hold it any longer.

"No!"

And as he shouted it, the anger blasted from him in all directions.

The two from his vision flew backwards, crashing into the wall with enough force to crack the stone. Or the demon did, and Sam watched from the bottom of the stairs as Dean fell to the ground. The psychic, too, hit the wall, though not as hard. Neither of them got back up.

Feeling slightly amazed at the power that had been behind the punch-like wave of telekinesis, Sam rushed forward to his brother's body. Refusing to believe that his brother could be dead, he searched for a pulse. At the instant he found one he also realized that he could now sense his brother.

He rolled Dean over, relieved beyond belief. His brother was still unconscious though. He pushed away tears, tears he hadn't even felt start the instant he had laid eyes on his brother's supposedly dead body. It didn't matter, because all that mattered was that Dean was alive.

He didn't have long to celebrate however. A second after he found Dean's pulse, he felt movement behind him.

He stood and spun at the same time, pulling the gun up to point at the woman. Just like in his vision, she exuded power and confidence. But there was something else there as well; uneasiness and fear.

"Easy there, Sam," she said, holding her hands up.

"Easy?" he asked incredulously. "You kidnapped my brother!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," she apologised, a smile still on her face. "We couldn't think of a better way to get you to come to us?"

He felt his face contort into a snarl. "What the hell do you want with me? Why can't you bastards leave me alone?"

"Because, Sammy. You're like a beacon. A lighthouse in the night. You draw us to you like moths to a flame. You know, I felt what you did in Bloomsfeld, Sammy. It's the reason we decided to move on you now."

"It's Sam to you!" he snapped. "And what do you want? Tell me!"

She smirked. "_They_ wanted you to come crawling to them, like some mongrel bastard not worth their time. _They_ didn't respect you enough. And now look what's come of it. In no time at all, you would have wiped out their little gang. If it weren't for me."

"So that's what _they_ want." He knew she meant the demons. He gestured with the gun. "What do you want?"

"Your powers. Or rather, the strength from your powers. Only my trap is far less physical."

Sam tensed. "Stay the fuck out of my head!" he warned, his grip tightening on the gun. She only sneered.

"Like you could stop me."

"I did before."

She laughed. "But here, my powers are stronger than trying to reach out over states. And even when you were in Cincinnati, I almost beat you."

Sam shook his head. "You're not getting in."

She sneered deeper. "Too bad. It means Dean will die."

Sam paused. "What do you mean?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

The woman shrugged. "Why do you think they kidnapped Dean? They knew you would follow."

Sam laughed, interrupting. "Into hell's fires and back if I had to," he told her. "That's why no one will ever beat us."

She smiled. "I know. _They_ believed you would allow yourself to be possessed if you believed your brother would otherwise die. Of course, they were right. But they don't have you in sight at the moment."

She cocked her head. "So, I suppose you have a choice, Sammy. Allow me into your head, allow me to take your powers. Just think, you'll be free of it at last. And you can have Dean back, nice and alive."

He didn't get the chance to think about it. Before he could even answer, she lunged. Not physically, but with her powers. He felt her push against his mind, and knew, knew desperately well that if she got in, he would have almost no chance of getting her back out.

But it was too late. She was far stronger than him, having lived the years sucking people of their energy. Her power, her strength, was like a bottomless pit. She filled his mind with her disgusting psychic fingers.

He could feel them in there, wrapping themselves around his brain. They pulsed, and his mind began pulsing too, pulsing with pain and light. It was so bright he couldn't stand it. He fell to his knees, dropping the gun, unable to even bring his hands up to grip the side of his paining head.

She laughed, and he looked up at her, eyes wide open, seeing everything there was to see. He saw as she stepped forward. He saw as she smirked with triumph. He saw as she reached out, but didn't touch him. Not yet.

"Physical touch strengthens the bond, Sammy," she warned him with pleasure. She was enjoying this. And then she lightly touched his temple.

He screamed as the pain intensified tenfold, just at that simple touch. Still he couldn't close his eyes, even to shut out the pain. He watched as she reached out with the other hand, and could only wait for the agony. He screamed again, but this time it lasted for longer, until he no longer had the strength to scream.

He could feel his strength ebbing. His one relief was that it was nothing like the demon back in Bloomsfeld. She wasn't in his mind, merely taking from it. It was bad enough, but not the worst.

He could feel his body slowing down. His strength fading, as she stole it. And he couldn't do anything to stop it.

With his still open eyes, he saw movement in the corner. The demon, Sam realized. At the same time, the woman saw it, and became angry. But she couldn't stop what she was doing.

The demon stood up, shaking its head. And then it seemed to become aware of what was happening. It looked between Sam, on his knees, in pain, but dying nonetheless. And the woman, fingers firmly attached to Sam's temples, appearing to be sucking him dry of life.

"Eve, what the fuck are you doing?" the demon demanded, striding over. But it didn't touch them, just watched in disgust and fury as the woman destroyed what had been promised to its master.

The woman, Eve, didn't answer. The strength flowing into had to have her full concentration, or nearly full. Enough so that talking was impossible.

"Eve, stop right now!" the demon demanded. Sam could feel it preparing to strike. "Eve, I said stop!"

Eve ignored it, but Sam could tell she was hurrying to finish. And he knew that now, it was a race between the psychic's draining, and the demon as to who ended up with his life. Well, he wasn't some stupid prize.

Gathering courage against the inevitable pain that would come from moving, he reached up and grabbed Eve's wrists. She gasped, shocked, as his grip tightened, until their skin almost seemed like it had melded together. Only at the same time as he lunged, the demon's hands snaked in as well, grabbing onto Eve's arms.

And then it was like a whirlpool of energy spinning between the three of them. With the added connections, strength flowed between them all, invisible to outsiders, but like thick cords of light to the three beings.

Physically his body fell back to its knees. Sam could see it, with the demon's eyes, with Eve's. The pain had disappeared, and he could tell his body thought the same. It no longer shook, no longer moaned unwillingly. Eve hadn't moved; she was the strongest here, having already taken much of Sam's powers. The demon, however, fell to his knees.

Sam, thinking fast, used the link to grab a hold on the demon's mind. And now, now that was where Eve was taking her strength from. She wasn't alone. As Sam acted as a conduit for the vast energy flowing from the demon to the psychic, he picked it up as well. The demon was now the one screaming as it jerked in pain, unable to release its hold.

"No!" Eve suddenly screamed. Sam smiled, and he saw the result on his face, through the demon's eyes. It twisted his features until he could only shudder at the cold triumph he saw, at the nasty things promised by a face his family had once claimed was so innocent. What the hell was he capable of? At that moment, he didn't care.

"NO!" Eve shouted again. "This can't be happening!"

And yet it was. Sam recuperated as she sucked the demon dry. And as she sucked it, the demon's powers tainted hers.

It was then that a cold darkness seemed to fill the room. Sam turned his gaze to the psychic and saw her face contort into a snarl.

"I can still get you, Sammy!" she shouted above the sound of the energy running from one figure to another. "I was going to spare you that pain, but… you… asked… for it!"

And then she dived in. Sam screamed in terror as she entered his mind, more completely than ever before. And suddenly he snapped back into his own body. The demon still didn't fall away, but continued to scream as it now felt the backlash of the rush of power between the two psychics.

Sam didn't even notice. All he could sense now was the woman in his mind, invading him.

"No!" he screamed, pushing at her. It was like pushing at water. She wrapped her entire self around his mind, smothering him, perverting him. "No!" he shrieked, actually shrieked, because his worst nightmare was coming true. She filled him, and this time it wasn't a memory that assailed him. It was real, and he couldn't pull back or get away this time.

"Get out!" he yelled uselessly. She ignored him, and once again that pulse began, only this time it was twice as painful and twice as bright. She began draining him twice as fast.

His eyes were still open, and now he was desperate. He wouldn't, couldn't allow evil into his mind again. It would drive him crazy. But she was right. The physical touch of her fingers against his temples, against his mind, strengthened the bond. Made it more powerful.

He felt himself jerk, flail, but couldn't let go of her. He was getting weaker and weaker. The demon was close by, knowing everything that went on between them, but it too was weak. It was of no help and Sam was disgusted that he was even thinking of the possibility that the demon would help him.

He groaned again as the pulse deepened, strengthened, brightened. He couldn't close his eyes against it because it was all behind his eyes. In his mind, where he was powerless. Powerless in his own mind. Just like he had been back in Bloomsfeld as the demon had become one with him.

"No!" he shouted to the otherwise still room. He shouted at himself, and at Eve, but most of all at the memory. He wouldn't go through that again. He wouldn't.

Dean was there somewhere, still unconscious. The demon knelt nearby. And the psychic still held Sam's temple.

"No," he whispered, unable to speak louder. He could feel himself dying. He could feel the growing presence in his mind. And he was powerless to stop it. The psychic cackled. He was dying.

* * *

So, I'm leaving it there for today. Like it? I hope so. Only one more chapter to go.


	8. Chapter 8: The Fury of Finding Hell

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing. I swear, I'll put them back in the same shape I got them in… or at least, eventually they'll be in the same shape. Maybe. But I will put them back.

**Warning:** Nothing to worry about, unless exploding bodies count.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed in this story. Your reviews mean heaps (besides the fact that it means someone actually likes my writing, lol!). Just so you know, this story ends on a huge cliffhanger, but there **will** be a sequel. And probably one after that. And a lot more, if people don't mind. So, once again, thanks, and I hope you like, no, I hope you love, this last chapter.

* * *

"_No," he whispered, unable to speak louder. He could feel himself dying. He could feel the growing presence in his mind. And he was powerless to stop it. The psychic cackled. He was dying._

* * *

Chapter 8: The Fury of Finding Hell

"No." This time it was even softer, the memory and the present forging into one. He wouldn't go through it again. He struggled, but it was useless. No. He was dying, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. Not him, not when it was because someone else was trying to control his own mind. "No!"

Somehow he said it, said it loud, said it strong. "No!" he cried. He could feel the psychic gathering for one last pull. And then he would be gone. He had defeated the demon, only to have this psychic take his mind from him five weeks later.

"NO!"

This time he screamed it, and pushed with all his might. He grunted with the effort, felt the blood begin dripping from his nose and the corner of his mouth. And then he suddenly gasped as the presence was gone from his mind. He felt tears begin with relief. He was free.

But it wasn't over. Eve quickly got over her shock, and attacked again. Only this time Sam was ready. He blocked her attempts, stopped her from once more wrapping her mind around his.

She lashed out again, and Sam groaned at the strength as he pushed back. He was slipping, he realized. Slipping, and the moment he fell, she would be back in there. He felt himself snarl. That wasn't going to happen. He was sick of being a boat for everyone else. He was sick of being something to these bastards, instead of someone, even a hunter. He was sick of being prey.

Gathering strength from his sudden rage, and taking from the still writhing demon, he lashed out at Eve. Her eyes widened, but the abruptness of the attack meant she was unprepared. She couldn't stop him as he grabbed her mind and started taking it. He fell into her mind and seized the dark flames that lived there, cold flames as terrible as the very fires of hell Sam had sworn to walk into to save Dean. And he began to absorb them in a show of power _nothing_ had ever predicted from the baby who's mother burned above his crib in Lawrence twenty-two years ago.

It was now Eve's turn to scream, as the pulse attacked her, drained her. Sam grunted as he felt it coming back to him, but it passed by him, into the demon, who also screamed, a terrible shriek that echoed around the stone basement.

Sam ignored it with a viciousness that would have surprised him if his rage hadn't been so blinding. He pulled and pulled, taking Eve's strength from her and filling the demon with it. He knew it would kill both the evil sons of bitches.

Eve fell to her knees, eyes wide with horror. Sam stayed where he was, on his own knees looking down at her smaller, now so obviously fragile form. He felt her struggling to gather strength to fight back, and attacked with a new ferocity. It filled the room with an icy darkness that was so cold it burned his very skin.

And it was that which shocked the fury from his mind.

He reeled back, physically, taking Eve's body part of the way. What the hell was he doing? He was killing her, with his powers, torturing her at the same time. This wasn't him, what was he doing? How could this be him?

But it was too late to stop it. Eve's mind was shutting down, and while doing so, performing the last act given to it. Sam grunted as the energy continued to flow to him.

And to make matter worse, now the power was unguided. With Sam's hands gone from it, it rushed between the bodies, as unstoppable as an avalanche. And now it rushed into Sam. The demon fell away, dead from the shock of first, undiluted power, and then freedom.

Sam felt the flow of energy running into him and knew he was in terrible danger. His mind wasn't built to hold the powers of others. He was a psychic, not a witch. He could feel it, building up like pressure behind a dam.

He felt his hands drop, and Eve fell away, gasping, shaking, unable to do more than that. The energy didn't dissipate though; it kept on coming, coming, coming, until Sam's mind couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed at his head, feeling the pressure building. His head was on fire, he couldn't… handle… any… more…

Sam exploded.

The power in his mind erupted from him as he screamed with the agony of the pressure. Eyes wide open, unable to be closed, Sam saw everything. The telekinesis made the whole room shake, picking up everything except Sam and Dean and flinging it at the walls. The walls cracked. Sam watched, helpless in the wake of his own strength, as the psychic's body shattered in a spray of blood. Without a mind to hold it together, it broke easily.

The demon was against the wall as Sam's eyes turned to it. Even dead it looked terrified. And then the power became too much for the body to take. It exploded in a shower of fiery light so bright it felt like it burned a whole in Sam's very eyes. A moment too late he closed his eyes.

After an instant everything went quiet. Sam didn't open his eyes though. He collapsed to the floor. From there, he welcomed the darkness like an old friend, knowing the darkness of his mind would keep him secure.

* * *

Dean wasn't sure what woke him after so long so deep in sleep that he hadn't even dreamed. He thought it was the movement. Or maybe the whispers. Or maybe that terrible feeling that something was incredibly wrong.

He decided he would open his eyes, a task easier said than done. But somehow he managed, and he took in his surroundings.

He was laying on a couch. A musty couch by the smell of it. Sunlight drifted in through a window in front of him, but it was early morning. Maybe an hour after sunrise.

Groaning, he sat up. Why did he feel like someone had beaten the shit out of him? Then he remembered. Someone had. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the memory of the past few days. But what had happened the night before?

"You must be Dean."

The girl's voice to his right scared the living daylights out of him, and he jumped before he had even opened his eyes. When he had, he looked around. Sure enough, it was a girl. One he didn't recognise.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked. Was she the one who had rescued him? He hoped not, because she looked the sort to gloat about it for the rest of her life.

"My name's Anya Jackson," she introduced. "That's my brother, Ash."

Dean looked around and was surprised to find another kid standing there. Two of them? He turned back to Anya. She seemed the more talkative of the two.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, none too gently. She almost frowned at his rudeness.

"We're the ones that helped Sam," she explained. "The ones he told you about on the phone."

Dean didn't answer for a moment. Even then, all he said was, "Oh."

He looked around, but the room seemed otherwise empty. "Speaking of my pain in the ass brother. Where is Sam?"

He caught Anya's sad look out of the corner of his eye. He spun his head back to her so fast he swore he cracked it. "What is it?" he demanded. "Where's Sam?"

Anya nodded by way of direction. "Over there, in the corner. But he's not in good shape. I mean, neither are you, but…" She trailed off.

Dean stared at her for a moment before standing, carefully hiding a wince. Ash moved out of the way as Dean made his way to the corner.

He saw Sam immediately, and just avoided swallowing. There was massive bruising around his temples, and his eyes looked swollen. Dean could see a fresh bandage on his little brother's stomach, and bruising on his back. And he was pale beyond belief. Far too pale.

"What happened to him?" Dean asked, sitting down on the couch beside his little brother.

"We don't know," the boy answered quietly. "We heard screaming, and we think that was him. But we couldn't get there then, we were held down by demons. And when we did, we found him like that, with blood and scorch marks everywhere."

Dean nodded, and then leaned forward, promptly forgetting the brother and sister. He placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sammy, can you hear me? Come on buddy, time to wake up." Nothing. Dean gave Sam's shoulder a little shake. "Sam, come on, you're meant to be the rescuer. I'm not meant to be waking you up."

"He's had a couple of hard days," Anya interjected. "His abilities have been… tested."

Dean thought he remembered. Eve had mentioned Sam almost killing himself, and then attacking him not an hour later. But everything seemed a little fuzzy.

Suddenly Sam gave a little stir, moving and then groaning. Dean leaned forward again. "Sam, wake up man!"

Sam must have heard because he groaned again. Then the eyes fluttered open. Something must have been hurting up in his head, because Sam winced, and then couldn't focus on anything. He probably had a concussion, Dean decided.

"Dean?" Sam question. His little brother heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Sammy fine. You know me. A couple of days with demons won't even make me flinch." He heard Anya snort and glared at her. She pretended to look all innocent, so Dean shook his head as he turned back to Sam, who's eyes had closed again.

"Hey, wait a minute Sammy. I think you have a concussion. You can't go to sleep yet."

The younger Winchester groaned and rolled his head back round. "I'm tired Dean."

"I know buddy, but stay awake." He held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sam scowled. "How the hell am I supposed to tell that in the dark, Dean? Turn on a light and maybe I'll answer you're stupid questions."

Dean's blood ran cold. He swore he stopped breathing. He felt Anya and Ash pause too. What the hell was Sam talking about? The sun was shining directly into his eyes.

His eyes…

For the first time Dean noticed a difference in Sam's eyes. They weren't brown anymore. Not really. They were clearer, almost transparent.

Sam seemed to sense something was wrong. He got that worried look, though he still didn't focus on anybody, just looked around, taking in Dean, Anya and Ash in a sweep of his gaze.

"What is it?" the young hunter asked. "What's wrong?"

Dean couldn't answer. The thought that his baby brother…

Ash answered for him. "Sam, it's not dark."

* * *

Dumdumda! Evil place to leave it? Yeah, I know. But a new story should be coming soon. Of course, the sequel to this one could take a while… I'm working on it, I'm working on it! Bye!


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